


On Ebon Wings

by DaydreamDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (one sided) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Dean Winchester, Baby’s a dragon, Barebacking, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain of the Guard!Dean, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Happy Ending, I love her, Insecure Castiel, Jealous Castiel, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Prisoner Castiel, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Riding, Sam's a great brother, Sex, Sharing a Bed, Shifter Castiel, Snarky Castiel, Soldier Dean, Swords & Sorcery, Teasing, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Torture, Unsafe Sex, Virgin Castiel, Virginity, but magic… so, voyeurism in the vaguest accidental pre-story sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamDestiel/pseuds/DaydreamDestiel
Summary: Captain Dean Winchester of the Laurellian Royal Guard was settling into a life of peace after five years spent fighting a brutal war with the northern kingdom of Stormridge.Things had been quiet on the border town of Shepherd's Bend for months with no indication of changing any time soon.Until one sleepless night Dean took a walk through the woods and discovered something that threatened everything he'd worked for, fought for, bled for.Something that called itself Castiel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe so many people thanks for this fic, starting with [@thedogsled](http://thedogsled.tumblr.com) for the amazing art prompt. I fell in love the second I saw it, and I was head over heels when my claim was successful. Working with you has been amazing, and your art is so beautiful. I was and am still completely blown away by every single piece you created. Thanks for making this so much fun. <3
> 
> Check out the art post [here to see all of the gorgeous pieces.](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/post/180149093113/excited-to-be-posting-my-first-spn-rb-of-the)
> 
> [@LoudenSwainfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl) thank you for the endless encouragement and basically alpha reading for me. You're amazing.
> 
> [@Brenna_Fae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenna_Fae) you saved my ass when I got stuck (like always), and I appreciate it every time. <3<3 Love your face.
> 
> And finally, [@angelwingsandhunterdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwingsandhunterdreams/pseuds/angelwingsandhunterdreams) thank you for beta'ing. <3 You caught a dropped plot thread I didn't even notice I missed on top of typos while dealing with a sick family, and I love you to the moon. <3

A solid thump to the back of Dean's left boot caused his purposeful stride to falter and he stumbled a few steps forward, then came to a stop. Rolling his eyes at himself ’cause he should’ve known by now to expect as much, he turned around with his gloved hands on his hips.

The dirt pathway leading from the guard tower at the edge of Shepherd’s Bend was dimly lit with enchanted blue orbs of firelight in the dark of the night, and directly behind him, her black scales shining silver in them, was his dragon, Baby. She was seated with her tail curling around her, wings resting at her sides—only up to about Dean’s knee in height, she was large for her kind. Most dragons weren't taller than mid-calf on him. Her pale eyes were fixed on Dean, her adorable face tilted up, expectant.

“You’re annoying, y’know that?” he grumbled, eyes narrowed at her, hand dusting over the front of his armor. The sword and shield on his chestplate glowed bright blue at his touch, ready to be called forth.

Her head tilted, horns glimmering with reflected light. She ruffled her wings, and stared impatiently at him. Dragons were smarter than most animals, able to think and reason to some degree though they lacked the ability to respond verbally. Most were on par with a clever child’s intelligence, though Dean was fairly certain Baby was much more advanced than that. He often spoke to her as he would any human, and he got the feeling she understood most of it.

“I'm just going for a walk. It's been quiet around here for months. No sign of any soldiers from Stormridge, so quit worryin’,” he said, leaning forward, the soft tinkling of his chainmail adjusting as he reached out and ran his fingertips along her horns.

Baby stretched into the contact and let out a little huff, her eyelids drifting half closed, her gaze steady on his face.

“No, I'm not taking anyone with me.”

She looked flatly at him, clearly implying that was a stupid idea. It wasn't though; the peace between Dean's kingdom, Laurellia, and the northern kingdom of Stormridge might’ve been relatively new, but it _was_ peace. It'd been that way for the last several months.

Shepherd's Bend was the closest village to the mountain range that separated Laurellia from Stormridge, on the only navigable pass, and for the first few months of the peace treaty, the area had been swarming with guards, but as the peace wore on most had been recalled. Dean and the guards under him remained, forming the garrison at Shepherd's Bend.

“I’m not gonna go waking the other guards ’cause I can't sleep, Baby,” he told her softly, stroking the scales on her forehead. “It's just a walk to clear my head. Y’know the sigil alarms would go off if anyone crossed the border.”

Finally, Baby's wings relaxed, and she sniffed at Dean's fingers, her breath warm even through the leather of his gloves in the slight chill of the early autumn air.

“You comin’ or are you gonna go curl up at Sam’s?” he asked, taking a few steps backward towards the woods and watching the perplexed, torn expression she made.

Baby was probably just as tired as he was after following him around all day, and she loved Sam almost as much as she loved Dean. With what Dean could only translate as the dragon equivalent of a weary sigh she took to the air and flew down the path ahead of him.

Chuckling to himself at the theatrics, Dean followed.

In the woods it was much darker, no firelight to guide them. Baby, of course, didn't need much light at all, her vision was far more adaptable than Dean's. Luckily the moon was bright overhead and even filtering through the canopy, the path was visible.

He couldn't see where Baby had gotten off to, but he trusted her to stick close. Aside from the rustle of wind through the turning leaves, the walk was quiet. Animals were mostly asleep at this time of night, and nothing he heard concerned him enough to leave the path and investigate.

Eventually he wore himself out, and he whistled to signal he was heading back. The return trip went slower with Dean waiting for Baby to outpace him. Unease rolled through his gut within moments.

He stopped walking and listened for any sign of her, heart thumping hard, hand straying toward his chestplate. Creeping back further into the woods as silently as he could, Dean was on full alert. His ears strained for any sounds that were out of place, his eyes roved over the shadows lining the path.

A cool breeze sent a chill down his spine and ruffled his hair, and then to his left the distinct sound of hooves—cavalry—his mind instantly leapt to. No. It was a single horse, he quickly realized. His breath rushed out of him in a slow release.

Stepping quietly toward where the sound had originated, Dean peered deeper into the shadows. It wasn't a horse at all—there in a beam of white moonlight facing away from him was a pegasus so black it almost bled seamlessly into the night, it's massive wings dipping down low beside it.

Stunned, Dean stood there gaping. Spotting a pegasus was rare in Laurellia. He'd never heard of one this far north. Hell, he'd never even _seen_ one in person, he'd only seen sketches in some of Sam's books.

“Woah,” he breathed, unable to contain his wonderment.

The pegasus twitched its ear, going stockstill for a moment. Then between one blink and the next it was gone and Dean was staring at an empty clearing. How did something that big move that fast? How had Dean missed it taking off?

A clicking noise from behind him finally tugged Dean's attention away from the shaft of moonlight. Had he imagined that whole thing? He _was_ exhausted.

“Hey, I'm not the one who wandered off. What’d you get up to?” he asked Baby, shaking it off and turning to face her.

She wrinkled up her snout a little and started trotting toward home. Probably as good of an answer as he was likely to get.

 

*****

 

The next two nights followed the same pattern; Dean had trouble sleeping and wandered into the woods to wear himself out. Both nights he caught glimpses of the pegasus. He wondered if it was letting him see it, ’cause he hadn't heard anyone else in the village talking about a mysterious pegasus wandering in the woods.

It wasn't until the third night that the pieces came together for Dean.

So far he'd only caught glimpses, and never head on. Until now. Until he was staring at glowing blue eyes and wracking his brain for any recollection of lore that mentioned glowing vibrant blue eyes among the features of a pegasus.

He might not have been as obsessed with them as Sam was, but Dean made it a habit to pay attention to his brother's interests, and when he was nine that was all Sam had read about. Not once that Dean could remember had his books ever listed glowing blue eyes.

There was only one creature Dean knew of that had them: _shadowlights._ His nose wrinkled, and his fists balled up at his sides. What the hell was a shadowlight doing in this realm?

Untrustworthy, shape shifting liars was what they were. They almost never crossed over from their realm into this one, but there was definitely a shadowlight directly on the other side of the river from him. Dean's stomach churned, anger prickling heat along the back of his neck, disgust curling his lip.

There was no way that a shadowlight on the border of Stormridge was coincidental. It was too unusual—too bizarre—to be random happenstance. Was Stormridge employing a shadowlight spy against them? It made a weird sort of sense; a shadowlight could easily travel from Stormridge into Laurellia without setting off alarms, but why in the hell would a shadowlight work for Stormridge?

Maybe there was a binding spell or something? If Dean had been lucky enough to have been born with magic he might’ve been able to capture the creature right then and there. Unfortunately for him, Sam had gotten all the magical talent in their family.

This time when the creature disappeared, Dean saw it for what it was—it didn't take off between one blink and the next. It simply vanished. A coil of dread wound through Dean's gut. He needed to talk to Sam first thing in the morning.

 

*****

 

_Dark wavy hair, big glowing blue eyes. A boy with a gap-tooth grin. “Is that all?” The boy—the shadowlight’s voice echoed._

_The image skipped. Dean reached out, his small hand shaking with hopefulness._

_The boy smiled at him. “Take it. I promise it'll be okay.”_

_Dean's tiny fingers closed around the cool glass of the potion bottle._

_Time shifted._

_Darkness shrouded everything around him, screams and shouts and the foul dirty stench of death permeated the air. Dean's muscles ached, his arms and thighs were burning, his ribs were sore from the heavy hit that had just landed on his armor. He was lucky he wasn't dead already—only it didn't feel lucky at all._

_“Tiring out already, boy?” his massive opponent taunted, and Dean hated that he was right._

_His boot slipped in a bloody patch of grass. Sprawled on the ground, eyes shutting tightly, he waited for the killing blow he heard whistling through the air—_

Sweat-drenched and trembling, Dean bolted upright on a guttural gasp. His fingers flew to the neck of his linen shirt and tugged as though it was the thing choking him rather than fear. Heaving lungfuls of air rushed past his lips while he blinked sightlessly at his room.

A sudden dip in the bed drew Dean's attention and a second later Baby nudged her face against his, her wings curling around him. It was ridiculous… and soothing, and exactly what he needed to get his breathing under control.

“I should probably thank Sam someday,” Dean mumbled a few long moments later, fingers rubbing under Baby's chin. “For begging me so much to keep you. I guess you're alright.”

She huffed at him, then nudged the side of his face before she jumped off the bed, and pointedly glanced at the latched window. With a groan, Dean peeled himself from his bed, and let her out.

The sun was barely risen, weak orange light glowing on the cobblestones between long shadows. Only a few people were wandering the street below Dean's window. The morning air was crisp, but Dean left the window cracked for Baby as he wandered into his washroom.

He'd had Sam's help designing this room when it'd become apparent Shepherd's Bend would be long term enough that he required his own housing. It wasn't big, but they'd made the most of it.

The chamber pot was enchanted, like the rest in the village, to dispose of waste with a hand waved over the sigil on the wall above it, and the tub to his left filled with heated water transported from the hot spring caves through another enchanted sigil.

The tub was easily Dean's favorite part of the entire house. After months at a time spent grimy and disgusting during the war when resources were scarce and rest was a luxury, Dean loved the guarantee of a warm bath each day.

Today, though, he rushed through cleaning, drying off, and dressing. Quickly, he tugged on his off-white linen underwear, then his brown woolen pants, tying the front flap and waist. Stockings were next, and brown riding boots after that, he pulled them up to his knees and looped the button closures up his calves, securing them.

Once he'd finished, he slipped into his brown leather tunic, a cotton shirt, and topped those with his chainmail and plated skirt. It was routine by now, getting on his chestplate, backplate, and pauldrons, steel gleaming in the morning sun that filled his room.

Downstairs his leather gloves and bracers were waiting on the table where he’d left them last night. He'd have to put them on after breakfast. Sighing, he tiredly scrubbed his hand over his jaw.

The brightside was part of the enchantment on Dean’s armor meant it didn't weigh nearly as much as it ought to. Still, sometimes Dean envied the fact that all his brother had to worry about getting ready in the morning was his long, perfectly styled hair.

Plus the whole having magic thing—he envied that too.

Once he was downstairs in the kitchen Dean cut himself a slice of bread, buttered it, and stuffed it in his mouth, finishing it in fast bites and washing it down with some water. If he didn't waste time eating a heartier breakfast he’d get out of his house fast enough to speak with Sam before he was needed at the guard tower.

After wiping his hands clean on a dish rag, Dean pulled on his leather gloves and fastened his bracers, the dimpled stylized steel covered his arms from wrists to elbows, a decorative band of braided metal around the edge, matching those on the rest of his plated armor.

Another benefit to wearing his armor, aside from its practical use, since it wasn't seeing much of that lately, was that he looked damn good in it. Dean smirked to himself. Getting laid had always come easy for him, but the armor certainly tended to speed things along. Woman, man, didn't matter—Dean turned heads, and he liked it.

For the most part he kept things casual. During the war he hadn't wanted any long term connections; he hated the idea of leaving someone behind if he died. He just wasn't worth that kind of pain.

Now? Now he was too restless to imagine settling down with anyone. Too on edge most days waiting for the other shoe to drop. So he enjoyed himself with whoever was obliging, attractive, and came without strings attached. Things could've been worse.

Heading out into the street, Dean locked the door behind himself. The upstairs window was still unlatched for Baby if she wanted back in, though odds were good he'd find her at Sam's or she'd catch up with him at the guard tower.

“Morning, Captain Winchester!” A little blond boy called out, holding his mother's hand, and waving frantically with his other, hero worship all over his face.

A smile broke out on Dean's lips. “Morning.”

One little word and the kid grinned ear to ear, his mother smiling gratefully at Dean. Giving her a polite nod, he continued on his way to Sam's. Here and there a few people greeted him as he went. Most of them Dean knew by name; Shepherd's Bend was a small enough village, and the longer Dean was stationed there, the more he came to know its occupants.

Sam's front door was unlocked, the wooden sign above it proclaimed _Winchester Potions & Enchantments _ in bold black lettering.

The downstairs portion of Sam’s place was split into two large rooms; the front was his store, where he sold items he'd enchanted, and potions he'd brewed to the public. The back was where he did his research and prepared the items he sold.

Upstairs, and only accessible from in back, was Sam's living quarters. They were pretty similar to Dean's, except it was all crammed into one floor at Sam's, and he had one less bedroom than Dean.

The front door creaked a little as Dean opened it, the bell hanging above chiming to signal a customer's arrival. Shelves as tall as Dean lined the walls, filled to the brim with everything from necklaces and armor to bottles of varying size and color. The floor was a rich brown wood that matched the shelves, and at the back of the room, near the door to the research area, was a locked desk where Sam kept his account records and silver coins.

“That you Dean?” Sam called from the back, followed by a clatter and a swear.

He chuckled to himself. “Yeah, it’s me!”

He wandered around looking at the new items Sam had in stock while he waited for him to come out—he’d learned the hard way that he shouldn’t be allowed in an area that contained Sam’s work. Winding up with sparkly orange hair for two weeks was the kind of thing he only needed to go through once.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, coming into the room and joining Dean by the display.

“I… the last few nights I couldn’t sleep so I took some walks in the woods,” Dean started and Sam raised an eyebrow, leaning his hip against a shelf and crossing his arms. “I saw a shadowlight.”

Both of Sam’s eyebrows climbed his forehead, eyes widening. “Are you sure? I mean, I’ve only ever read myths about them. Most people don’t even believe they’re real how do you know—”

“’Cause I know,” Dean insisted, voice harsher than he meant it to be. He _knew._ “It was disguised as a pegasus, but it’s been out in those woods every night for the last three nights. Don’t you think that’s suspicious, Sam? What if Stormridge is working with it?”

“Dean, that’s—”

Dean crossed his own arms. “Look, I don’t really need you to believe me. I just need you to come up with something to trap a shadowlight. Can you do that?”

Looking conflicted, Sam ran an hand through his hair and sighed with defeat. “Maybe? I can look at the lore and come up with something that _might_ work, but like I said everything’s based on myth. No one’s even seen one in centuries.”

Dean didn’t bother correcting him. Someone had. He had; and it wasn’t the first time. “Can you have it ready for me tonight?”

Shaking his head ruefully, Sam shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll do my best, I guess. You better hope that whatever I make works—or that this thing isn’t actually a shadowlight… the myths aren’t exactly glowing with praise about their forgiving nature.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t just let it keep wandering around out there doing who knows what. I’ll be by to pick it up after I’m done with my shift,” Dean said, heading for the door. He glanced over his shoulder as he walked outside. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Yeah, whatever, jerk,” he heard Sam reply as the door closed behind him.

Maybe this was a stupid plan, but it was the best Dean had. Sam was right though—shadowlights were dangerous when they _weren’t_ pissed. If whatever Sam magicked up didn’t work? Dean was probably toast.

Sam would be expecting Dean to take back-up tonight, but he wasn’t about to risk the rest of the guard, and besides, he’d barely managed to convince Sam. No chance was he gonna look like an idiot in front of his soldiers.

Nope, one way or another Dean was going into those woods alone tonight. Grimly, he squared his shoulders and headed for the tower.


	2. Chapter 2

“So?” Dean asked, looking at Sam expectantly.

Sam's store was closed up for the day, empty when Dean had arrived. Dusty footprints on the wood showed decent traffic in and out throughout the day, so Dean hoped he'd had time to work on finding something to trap a shadowlight.

Baby was curled up fast asleep in a patch of sunlight along the back wall of the room, Dean figured she was worn out after he’d kept her out so late for the last few nights. Hopefully she’d stay that way.

Sighing, Sam massaged the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. “I can't guarantee it'll work,” he qualified.

“But?” Dean pressed.

“But I found an enchantment to bind a shadowlight's power.” Sam nodded his head toward the back of the store.

Dean followed him into the back, careful to keep his hands to himself, and away from the items scattered around Sam's workbench. The little bubbling cauldron there especially.

Laying on the middle of the desk was an innocuous looking length of rope. Dean raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. Whatever he'd expected, that definitely wasn't it.

“Are you—that’s it? Some rope?” Dean spluttered.

Sam cut him a dirty look. “Yeah, Dean. I'm sending you to confront a shadowlight with plain ol’ rope.”

Rolling his eyes and shifting on his feet Dean grumbled, “Well what is it, then?”

“It's infused with mountain ash berry and iron dust, plus I enchanted it with a spell I found buried in a shadowlight story,” Sam replied, drumming his fingers on the edge of his desk.

“A… story?” Dean asked, voice skeptical.

Sam's eyes narrowed. “Like I said, Dean, not a whole lot of information out there on shadowlights that's reliable. Hell, I'm lucky I even found the spell, it was part of this old folk-tale and it was woven into the poem—”

Boring. “Losing me,” Dean announced, resting his hip against the desk. “Get to the point, how likely is it that this is gonna get my ass handed to me instead of binding the shadowlight?”

Brow furrowing, Sam frowned and ran his fingers over the rope. “I can't guarantee it'll work, but that's why I added in the iron dust. If the enchantment and mountain ash berry don't bind it's powers, the iron’ll get it to take off. It's a feature in all the myths I found. Seems like a pretty safe bet that that part’s true, at least.”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly, processing. “So how am I gonna know if it's working?”

Sam’s face brightened a little, the same excitement he always showed whenever he was talking about magic and research. “The rope’ll glow soon as you get it on the shadowlight. It might fight for a minute or so, try to break free, but as long as you keep ahold of the rope the magic’ll kick in. The shadowlight will be forced to shift into its natural form, and won't be able to access it's magic at all."

“Huh. So what's its natural form?” Dean asked.

“Human-ish as far as I can tell. The lore basically says their natural state is incredibly beautiful to humans.” Sam scrutinized him for a second then wrinkled his nose. “So maybe try _not_ thinking with your dick once you catch it.”

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed, irritation flashing through him, as if he’d _ever_ do that with a shadowlight. “Gross, Sam.”

Shrugging, Sam smirked. “I know you.”

Dean glared at him. “Whatever, I'm not gonna sleep with it, I'm gonna interrogate it.”

“Mhm. Anyway, just watch out because even if it doesn't have its powers, they're incredibly intelligent, and strong from what I read, so you'll still have your hands full until you bind its wrists. It won't be able to escape after that.”

“If your information's right,” Dean pointed out. Sam shrugged a shoulder, conceding. Sighing Dean reached for the rope. “It's the best we’ve got.”

“You could always just leave it alone,” Sam cautioned.

Mouth set in a grim line, Dean shook his head. “No, I can't.”

“Well then, want me to come with you? I could help.”

The puppy eyes Sam turned on him would’ve made a lesser man crumble, but Dean’d gotten used to them a long time ago. He was practically immune to it by now.

“Nah. I'm gonna take Benny and Jo, you stay back in case someone's gotta patch us up after,” Dean said with a smile to reassure him.

Lying to his brother wasn't something Dean enjoyed, but it was necessary. If Sam was wrong about this, Dean didn't want him anywhere near an angry shadowlight.

Sam studied him intently, and then finally seemed to accept Dean's lie. “Okay,” he said, shoulders slumping a little before he squared them again, “but you better be careful, and I better hear from you the second I get back.”

“Obviously.” He sent Sam a confident smile, and turned to head out front. “I’ll be back before you know it, Sam.”

He was just about at the door when Sam’s voice called out, “Hey wait! There’s one more thing.”

“Huh?” Dean turned and found Sam rushing toward him with a spherical bottle of glittering translucent orange potion.

“It’s a silence elixir I made you,” Sam explained, holding it out for him. “So long as you watch your step and don’t go rustling big branches and stuff to announce where you are, it’ll keep your armor and footsteps from giving you away. I mean, so long as it works on a shadowlight,” he mumbled.

Dean took the elixir and uncapped it, sniffing the contents. It smelled sort of like citrus and mint, but he knew better than to rely on a potion’s scent to gauge its taste. “How gross is this gonna be?”

A half smile curled up on Sam’s lips, one dimple flashing. “Not bad.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. That was a damn lie if he ever heard one. With a resigned sigh, he put the neck of bottle to his lips and tilted it up as he leaned his head back. Trying not to taste it, he swallowed mouthfuls as quickly as he could until the bottle was empty.

Shuddering, Dean grimaced and tossed the empty bottle back to Sam. He smacked his lips at the slimy texture it left in his mouth, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Yuck,” he complained, body tingling momentarily as the magic suffused him.

A second later the strong bitterness in his mouth faded to a minty-citrus aftertaste, and his pinched expression relaxed.

“See,” Sam teased. “Not so bad.”

 

*****

 

Everything was relatively quiet in the dark woods as Dean crept toward the spot he’d last seen the pegasus. The rope was coiled loosely around his arm, and he tried to keep his thoughts off of whether it would work or not. He’d deal with that eventuality if it came to it.

For now, he focused on where he was creeping, careful not to brush against tree branches. The wind whistled ominously, leaves rustling with it, and a few even blew right off and floated wildly on the breeze. He watched them dance in front of him before slowly dropping to the ground.

He’d been out here for at least an hour already, no sign of the shadowlight. An owl hooted to his left, startling him, and Dean’s hand clutched his chest as he tried to keep his rapid breathing quiet.

Movement up ahead caught his attention—the pegasus. It was lying down in a thin beam of moonlight not far from the stream, its ebony coat giving off a cobalt shine, unnatural blue eyes blinking lazily. With its front legs tucked beneath it, and its hind legs jutting out to its left—away from where Dean stood, its wings splayed out around it, the shadowlight was in a perfectly vulnerable position. Dean honestly couldn’t have asked for a better shot at it.

He kept still in the shadows for a few moments planning his approach and then he slowly walked closer, keeping to the darkness as much as he could. The shadowlight remained oblivious, and Dean thanked his lucky stars, ’cause it looked like Sam’s potion was working.

When he was close enough, Dean leapt into action, tossing the looped end of the rope over the shadowlight’s head and yanking it tight around its neck. A terrifying sound rumbled from its chest, a cross between a bellow and a growl that would never come from a horse-like creature of any kind. It reared up as the rope began to glow golden orange and Dean held tight.

Wings flaring out intimidatingly large, it blocked out the stars and moon with its massive body as it kicked its front hooves at him, growling again. Dean leapt back, barely keeping hold of the rope, staring wide-eyed up into flashing cerulean eyes. His heart knocked against his ribcage, and he struggled with his adrenaline fueled urge to run. No amount of time spent in battle against Stormridge soldiers had prepared him for facing down a furious shadowlight.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Dean chanted, willing Sam’s rope to work.

The shadowlight’s gaze sharpened on Dean. There was a tense moment—every single hair on Dean’s skin standing on edge, and then all of the fight suddenly drained from the shadowlight like air rushing from its lungs.

One second he was staring at snarling teeth and dangerous hooves, and the next a man stood before him, his lips set in a grim line, his dark hair tangled. Glowing blue eyes that haunted Dean’s nightmares were steadfastly focused on him.

_“Cas?”_ he gasped, feeling like his chest was squeezed too tight.

Dean only allowed himself a moment to be shocked before he remembered Sam's warning and leapt into action again, grabbing Cas's wrists and easily binding them in front of him, the length of glowing rope looped around his throat and down to his arms where Dean tied it off securely.

It should've been harder. Cas should've fought him. Golden orange light danced over Cas's tanned skin, shadows playing over his unreadable features, and man, the stories were goddamn right—shadowlights _were_ incredibly beautiful.

From its unruly hair, dark lashes framing intense gorgeous eyes, full pink lips, and a damn nice body clothed in a plain unlaced linen tunic and snug dark leather pants, feet in plain leather riding boots, Cas looked like sensuality personified.

He didn't say a thing, just watched Dean with his head inclined slightly to the side, face blank.

“Dean!” Sam called, crashing through the branches behind him, causing Dean to spin around and look for him, one hand grabbing onto Cas's shoulder to keep it from getting away. “Holy shit, you did it!”

“Sam, what the hell?” Dean grumbled angrily. “I told you to stay behind.”

Sam, now close enough for Dean to see him clearly in the rope's glow, rolled his eyes. “I lied because _you_ lied. I knew you weren't gonna take Benny and Jo, so someone had to keep an eye on you.”

Dean tilted his head toward Cas. “Obviously not, I caught it didn't, I?” he asked, ignoring the gaze boring into the back of his head.

“Only because it _let_ you,” Sam argued, arms crossing. “It could've knocked you down when it was up on its hind legs, or it could've fought when you were too busy ogling it—”

Dean's face burned. “I wasn't og—”

“But it didn't,” Sam kept saying, ignoring Dean's outburst. “It just stopped, like it recognized y—”

“Sam!” Dean exclaimed, voice hard, cutting him off. “I'll explain later, okay? I need to secure the shadowlight in the guard tower. I gotta do my job first.”

Sam looked mutinous for a drawn out moment and then he sighed. “All right, fine. But you better not be lying this time, Dean, or I swear the next time you need a potion from me, I'm gonna make sure it turns your eyebrows pink.”

“Whatever.” Dean turned to face Cas again, surprised to find him staring listlessly back at him, still not uttering a word. “Just go home and make sure Baby doesn't get into trouble,” Dean said to Sam over his shoulder.

Grumbling something under his breath, Sam started walking away, and Dean scowled at Cas. “I don't know what you're doin’ here,” he muttered, “but it ain't good, and you're gonna tell me everything.”

Nothing, still, from Cas; no reaction other than a flat stare that seemed to say, 'Will you, boy?’

A shiver ran down Dean's back. Fear obviously, and nothin' else, he told himself holding Cas's stare before finally reaching down and grabbing the rope just above where it was woven around Cas's wrists. Dragging Cas forward was easier than it should've been too.

Even weakened, unable to fight, shouldn't Cas have resisted _somehow?_ By slowing his steps, or being difficult, or _something?_ It was unnerving, how easy this whole thing had gone down, Dean mused as they trudged through the woods, and up to the stone wall of the guard tower.

They weren't expecting him, so instead of using his palm print to unlock the charmed thick wooden doors and enter, he banged his fist on it. Stepping back he looked up at the lowest window and as expected, Jo cautiously peered down, and noticed it was him before she unlatched the glass and stuck her head out.

“Dean? What's goin’ on? Who’s that?” she called.

“Just open the door, Jo, I'm not gonna yell it out here for everyone to hear. The last thing I need’s someone starting a panic,” he yelled back.

Her irritated muttering cut off when she latched the window again, and then moments later the door was flung open.

“All the cells still open?” he asked as he pushed past her and climbed the steps pulling Cas along behind him.

“Yeah, of course, but what _is_ that?” Jo asked, sounding a little rattled.

Dean looked back as he kept climbing, he might be rattled too if Cas focused that haughty glare his way. “It's a shadowlight.”

_“He,”_ Cas interrupted, speaking for the first time, his voice a low growl, springing goosebumps up along Dean's skin, “is a seren of Desrix. Your word for us is ridiculous nonsense.”

“H’wha—?” Jo spluttered, trailing after them.

“Ignore it, Jo,” Dean commanded, finally reaching the third floor of the spire. Through the door on his right they entered a large room with four arched doors spanning the circular wall.

Inside each door was a cell equipped with a twin bed, an enchanted chamber pot, and nothing else. Choosing one at random, he shoved Cas inside. Fury bubbled up in his chest as Cas took in his surroundings with a confused look on his face, as if he had no idea what was happening or why he was here.

It was a trick, that was all. Designed to evoke sympathy in Dean, but he knew better. Disgust curled up his lip and he glowered at Cas. “I'll be back for you in the morning,” he swore, voice rough with the hatred seething in his gut. “And then I'm gonna make you talk, whatever it takes. I'm not sure why you're working with Stormridge, but it doesn't surprise me. I told you to stay the hell away, Cas. You shoulda listened.”

“Dean—”

He slammed the door shut and bolted it before Cas could finish whatever lie he was about to spill. Let him stew for the night, realize how truly trapped he was, and then Dean would interrogate him first thing in the morning.

He rubbed a hand over his face, worn leather gloves catching on the stubble dotting his jaw. “I want a guard on it tonight, take shifts. It's dangerous even if it doesn't look like it. Shadowlights are crafty and sneaky, they'll use any weakness to their advantage. So no talking to it. Got that?” he asked her more harshly than he meant to.

Her eyes hardened, but she just nodded her head. “Yes sir.”

Oh yeah, she was pissed. “Good, you got five minutes, go wake a few of the others and let them know what's happening, arrange the shifts. I'll stay here until then.”

“Of course, Captain Winchester.” Jo spun on her heel and stalked off down the stairs.

 

*****

 

Sam was gaping at him, mouth hanging open. “What d’you mean it recognized you?”

Impatient, Dean tapped the toe of his boot on Sam's clean wooden floor, Baby pacing restlessly in front of him. “Why d’you look so shocked, Sammy? I mean, you pretty much guessed as much back there.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Yeah but…” he trailed off arms flapping down to his sides uselessly. He examined Dean's face for a moment then nodded his head toward the back. “I need to sit down for this and it sounds like this is gonna be the kind of conversation you're not gonna want to be totally sober for.”

“You got that right,” Dean agreed emphatically, his stomach already twisting up in knots just thinking about what he was gonna tell Sam.

A lie or the truth? Which was worse when the truth would tear open old wounds for both of them. Seventeen years he'd kept it to himself, tried to pretend it was all some sort of dream, the product of a desperate mind, but there was Cas proving him wrong, making him dig up stuff that was better left buried.

His relationship with his brother was already on shaky ground though. It was only in the months after the war when Sam had moved to Shepherd's Bend that they'd really begun repairing it. The old pain of Dean leaving him behind with Bobby and Ellen when he'd signed up with the Guard at sixteen still simmered below the surface.

They both understood the reason Dean had done it—Bobby and Ellen couldn't afford to keep three children, though they'd never said as much, Dean had seen the way they struggled to make ends meet. Even then, they'd tried to convince Dean to stay, and when they couldn't Bobby had hugged him misty-eyed on the day he'd left for training and told him in a hushed voice he was proud of him, and to make sure he came back.

Sam though—Sam’d been angry for a long time, abandoned by someone else he loved and left behind to put the pieces of himself back together. Dean's guilt had only magnified with time, but at least he’d known Sam would be able to eat, to go to school.

The first few years, Sam's responses to Dean's letters had been short, vague. Dean still had no idea what’d changed two years ago, whether Sam had just matured or if he'd experienced something in particular to cause it, but he actually started talking to Dean again in the letters he sent.

And it seemed like they were making progress. So much so that he'd been thrilled Sam wanted to move to Shepherd's Bend. The village had been in sore need of a shop like his, and he'd get to see his brother again, what more could Dean have wanted?

Things were still tense sometimes, so much left unspoken between them, but if they had any hope of getting better Dean couldn't lie to him. Sam still knew him well enough to read Dean's tells, minimal as they were.

He followed Sam upstairs and settled in on one of the overstuffed chairs in Sam's sitting room. In the other, Sam sat down after he fetched them each a drink, curling up with one leg under himself to face Dean more fully.

“Tell me everything,” he demanded.

“Yeah, okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

The small thin leather shoes Dean was wearing weren't made for running through the woods. Pointy stones and twigs poked at his feet, but in spite of the pain, he didn't slow, weaving through pine trees, his lungs working furiously and his eyes wet.

He didn't know how long he'd been running when he finally collapsed to his knees in a clearing full of tall green grass. His heart ached and it started as choked off gasps, but soon his shoulders were shaking with his sobs.

He couldn't stay in the house anymore, being brave and smiling for mama, and telling Sammy it was okay, and promising Dad that he knew she'd be better soon. She  _ wasn't _ going to be okay.

Dean had overheard the healer—the one Dad had scraped and saved and pinched pennies to pay for.  _ Incurable _ … even Dean knew what that meant.

Shifting, he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, crying harder. No one was there to see tears rolling down his cheeks or his nose running, but he buried his face in his arms anyway, trying to muffle the sound.

“It's not fair,” he mumbled brokenly to the forest. “It's not fair!”

“What's not fair?” a voice asked, and Dean startled, head rearing back to look at the spot to his left where it'd come from.

A boy with wavy dark brown hair and big glowing blue eyes was staring at him curiously. Dean sniffled and wiped at his face with the sleeve of his linen shirt. “Wh—”

What  _ are _ you, he wanted to ask, but his brain supplied the answer as the boy knelt down closer, his irises swirling with navy and cobalt and sky blue. A shadowlight.

“I heard you crying,” the shadowlight said, still looking at him with concern. “What's wrong?”

Dean wet his dry lips, unsure what to say. He didn't know much about shadowlights, just the stories his mama'd told him. He winced. “My… my mama’s real sick. She… the healer said she's not,” Dean's breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears falling wetly over his cheeks. “She won't make it.”

Suddenly the shadowlight stood up grinning as he clapped his hands. “Is that all?” Dean bristled, and barely heard the rest of what he said over the anger bubbling up in his stomach.

“I can fix that,” he proudly proclaimed.

The whole world screeched to a halt, the shadowlights words buzzing in Dean's brain. “You—what?”

“I can fix it. I'm really good at potions,” the shadowlight told him, puffing his chest up a little. “Mom says I'm gonna be powerful. I just need to find the right things. Wait here.”

The shadowlight took a few steps before he turned around, cheeks pink. “I'm sorry, that was rude. I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Castiel.”

“C…”

He smiled a little again. “Castiel, but you can call me Cas, my brother does. What's your name?”

Still failing to understand what was happening, Dean blinked at him. “Dean.”

“Okay, Dean. I'll be right back.”

There was a flicker in Dean's vision and then he was alone in the field again, the smell of pine sap and grass and dirt surrounding him were the only things that kept him from feeling like he was going crazy. Had that really just—

Cas was standing right in front of him again and Dean jolted. “Don't do that!”

“Did I scare you?” Cas asked gravely, dropping to his knees. “I'm sorry, but here. I made a potion for your mom.”

The bottle Cas held out was a long glass tube, the inside glimmering with iridescent violet liquid.

“That…”

Cas nodded, eyes shining with honesty. “It'll cure any illness. We use it all the time in Desrix.”

Dean wanted to ask where or what Desrix was, but he was too busy thinking about what Cas was offering. “What's the catch? Why are you doing this?”

Cas shrugged a shoulder, a half smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I heard you crying and I can help. Just get her to drink it and she'll get better.”

Lifting his hand further toward Dean, Cas waited for him to take it. Dean reached out, his small hand shaking with hopefulness.

Smiling, Cas said, “Take it. I promise it'll be okay.”

 

*****

 

“But it wasn't,” Sam mumbled, face ashen. “Mom died.”

Swallowing thickly and rubbing his hand over his jaw, Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

“So what happened? If he gave you a potion—”

Dean's eyes narrowed, glaring at the floor in front of him. “It didn't work. Cas—the shadowlight  _ lied,  _ Sam. It's what they do. Maybe it thought it was being funny or maybe it was just cruel. I don't know. All I know is I went back to that clearing the next afternoon and I yelled myself hoarse cursing it out and telling it I'd make it regret not saving her if I ever saw it again.”

“It didn't seem very scared of you,” Sam said, and Dean looked up at him, brows raised in question. “I mean, if the last thing you said to me over a decade ago was threatening—and I remembered that—I'd probably fight like hell to get away from you. So why didn't Cas?”

Irritation and exhaustion twisted in Dean's gut. He'd told Sam the whole story, what else did he want? “No clue. Look, I'm tired, and I gotta go interrogate it at the crack of dawn. I told you what I know, we good?”

It looked like Sam might argue, but then he sighed and stood up. “Yeah, we're good. Thanks, y’know, for not lying about that. It… means a lot, Dean.”

Nodding gruffly, Dean stood up and pasted a sour look on his face to cover up the pleased glow in his chest. “Yeah, whatever, didn't wanna hurt your girly feelings.”

“Nice,” Sam muttered, but a smile was playing at the corners of his mouth. “C’mon, I'm gonna lock up behind you. Take Baby with you, I'm gonna sleep in.”

Narrowing his eyes at Sam and following him downstairs, Dean wrinkled his nose and silently mouthed, “I'm gonna sleep in.”

“Keep me in the loop?” Sam requested at the door, Baby wandering lazily out between them.

Dean mock saluted him. “You got it.”

“’Night, Dean.”

“See ya, Sammy.”

The walk home was quiet, Baby flying on ahead. Dean tried not to dwell on everything that'd happened. His thoughts were sluggish anyway, mind overworked, and emotions wrung out. The echo of the hope Cas had given him all those years ago, and the soul crushing grief when it'd been proven false coursed through him anyway, only serving to ignite a burning revulsion in his stomach.

Whatever the reason Cas hadn't fought him harder, Dean didn't care. It was only another trick. He'd keep reminding himself of that as often as he had to.

Sleepily, he unlocked his front door, and clambered up the stairs to his room. Stripping down he made a quick trip to the washroom before he crawled into bed and passed out with the window open, Baby curling protectively around his ankles.

Dean slept restlessly, tossing and turning, mind stutter-starting and spinning in circles.

_ T-t-t-take it. Take it. I promise. _

Blinking in the morning sunlight, Dean sucked in a gasping lungful of cold air. He glared over at his wide open window, and tried to shake off the dream he'd woken from. He sank deeper into the warmth of his covers for a moment, loathing the fact he needed to get up.

Eventually he peeled himself from his bed and set about his morning routine, if he wasn't filthy he would've skipped the bath entirely in his rush. He was ready to get this over with. The sooner he figured out the shadowlight’s plan, the sooner he could get rid of it.

Pausing at the wooden nightstand by his bed, Dean ran his fingers along the edges of the small charcoal sketch lying on top of it, the one his grandparents’d had commissioned of his mother on her sixteenth birthday, her long hair curling around her shoulders and a hopeful smile on her young face.

He turned away, lips pressing together, and brows drawing down. Resolve hardened, he grimly pulled his gloves on.  _ One way or another. _

 

*****

 

When Dean arrived, Benny was seated on a stool facing the room Cas had been locked in. He looked worse for the wear, but alert, his ice blue eyes clear. “Mornin’, boss.”

“Hey, Benny. Did it give you any trouble?” he asked coming to a stop beside him, hands resting lightly on his hips.

“Nope. Haven’t heard a thing from it. My guess is it’s sleeping,” Benny replied, shrugging one massive shoulder.

“Mmm,” Dean agreed. He dropped his arms and straightened up. “I’m gonna question it. Keep the door locked behind me until I give the signal, just in case.”

Benny finally levered himself to his feet and scrutinized Dean’s face inquisitively. “You sure that’s a good idea, Captain?”

Shrugging, Dean headed for the door to Cas’s cell. “Good idea or not, it’s what’s gonna happen. Besides, it’s bound—can’t use its magic. I can handle it.”

“Your call,” Benny said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight uneasily. “I'll be listening for the signal.”

Nodding, Dean unbolted the door and stepped inside. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light filtering in through the bars of the tiny window, and he heard the lock clunk home after the door closed behind him.

The musty air carried a chill—stone walls and late fall contributing to the damp. These cells weren't meant to offer comfort.

Cas was sitting on the bed, his knees drawn up with his bound hands resting on them. His head was tipped back against the wall, eyes shut, and Dean might've believed he was asleep if it wasn't for the tension in every attractive line of his body. His broad shoulders were rigid and his hands were clenched tightly together.

Dean walked further into the little room and leaned back against the wall opposite Cas.

“There's two ways we can do this,” he said, smoothing his hand down the front of his chestplate and watching the resulting blue glow light an unmoving Cas up. “And I think you already know what they are. You're smart enough to ’ve figured out you can't get outta that by now. Smart enough to know you bought yourself a one way ticket by showin’ up here. Meant what I said back then, Cas.”

Dean dipped his voice chillingly low, threatening. “So what are you doing here?”

Not bothering to open his eyes, or move at all, Cas answered, voice as hard as Dean's, “You wouldn't believe me.”

“Probably not,” Dean admitted, smirking unkindly. “But try me anyway. You're on the border of Stormridge, shadowlight. That looks pretty damn suspicious. You guys don't come around much from what I hear, but I see you twice in my life? And we both know how the last time went. So cut the crap, Cas. Why are you working with Stormridge? What are they planning?”

That got Cas's full attention, he casted a long glance at Dean, mouth twisted down in a frown as something almost sorrowful flitted across his face. “Your assumption that my presence here isn't a coincidence is correct. However, I'm not working for Stormridge. They hold no interest for me.”

Dean stared, disbelieving. “Then who? If you're not working for Stormridge, then why the hell would you be here?”

Silence dragged out between them. Cas pressed his lips together and kept his gaze steady on Dean. Dean's eyes narrowed.

“Bullshit,” he grunted, defensively crossing his arms and staring Cas down. “You think just ’cause you're pretty you can bat your eyes and make me think you're here for me? Newsflash, Cas, that's not gonna work. I learned my damn lesson—shadowlights are cruel, awful, tricky sons ’a bitches, and I ain't gonna fall for your crap twice.”

“Believe what you want,” Cas mumbled, closing his eyes again and leaning back against the wall. “You will anyway. You're always stubborn.”

“Don't do that,” Dean hissed, fury rising up in him, flooding his face with heat.

“Do what?” Cas asked, tone bored. “Tell you the truth?”

“Act like you know me!” Dean exclaimed, taking a furious step forward. “You don't know a damn thing about who I am or what I've done. I'm not that sniveling little kid you tricked. I'm a Captain of the Royal Guard, and I have fought tooth and  _ nail, _ blood and  _ sweat, _ to get where I am. So you can shove your attitude where the sun don't shine, Cas. You're gonna talk, one way or another.”

Heaving a sigh, Cas blinked his eyes open, lashes lifting slowly. “I'm telling the truth. Stormridge has nothing to do with me being here. Serens don't work for humans. Why would we?”

“Hell if I know why a shadowlight does anything,” Dean muttered, flinging one arm out. “Maybe you got some kind of deal with them.  _ Maybe _ they're working for  _ you.” _

One of Cas's eyebrows arched. “Do you  _ actually _ hear yourself? Did that sound clever in your head?”

Irritation flashed hotly through Dean. “You think this is a joke? I'll—”

The door to the cell banged open before Dean could finish his threat, thunking heavily against the wall. Benny's eyes were wide. “We got a problem.”

“What?”

“Stormridge soldiers,” he reported, “edge of town. Tran says they got flaming arrows and they're lighting up houses, saw it on his way in.”

Dean sent Cas a glare. “So much for not working with Stormridge.” He turned to face Benny, heading for the door. “Benny, you stay here and keep him under guard. I'll leave Jo and Charlie with you, the rest will come with me.”

Suddenly Dean realized Cas was no longer on the bed, he followed Benny's gaze and spun around to face him.

“Let me come,” Cas pleaded, eyes desperate—real emotion in them for the first time all morning. “I can help. Dean, I can keep you safe.”

Scoffing Dean nodded to Benny, and followed him toward the door. Cas grabbed onto his arm with both hands and tugged. “Dean, don't do this. I can help you.”

Shoving him off, Dean shot him a dirty look, pouring every ounce of the hate and rage he'd clung to in it. “Like you helped last time?”

He slammed the door shut before Cas could do more than look resigned.

 

*****

 

Approaching the edge of town with the guards, Dean frowned. Not only was there no smoke floating up, there wasn't even the faint scent of it.

“Stay alert!” he called as they fanned out.

Five minutes into their search Dean knew something was wrong—there were no fires, no soldiers that he could see. A split second decision later he took two of the guards closest to him and booked it back to the tower, leaving the rest to keep investigating on the off-chance his gut feeling was wrong.

It wasn't.

His heart ricocheted painfully against his ribs. Jo was lying on the cement steps, a trail of blood trickling down from her temple into her blonde hair, some kind of dart in her splayed out palm. Her chest steadily rising and falling was the only thing that kept him from panicking.

“Jo!”

He wanted to rush straight to her, but his instincts kept him smart; he surveyed the area looking for a threat, for whoever had taken her down. When he found no sign, he glanced at the guards beside him.

“Garth, stay with Jo. Ash, go get Sam, and fast. Who knows what potion that dart was laced with,” Dean ordered as he rushed forward, guilt pinging wildly in his chest as he passed by Jo.

He couldn't let it slow him down though, Charlie and Benny might be in danger inside. Not to mention the very real threat of Stormridge getting their hands on their pet shadowlight again.

Charging in the cracked open door, Dean pressed his palm to his chestplate and called his sword out, fingers clenching tightly around the hilt that appeared glowing momentarily blue in palm before it solidified. He vaulted up the stairs, heading straight for the third floor, ’cause he knew damn well the only thing of interest in this tower was there.

Inside the room housing the prison cells, Dean found Charlie and Benny, both unconscious. Charlie's sword was down by her boot, a small green dart poking out of her neck. Dean pressed the tip of his sword to his chestplate as soon as he'd scanned the room, finding it safe, and with a guided thought it vanished.

He knelt beside Charlie and pulled the dart free, checking her breathing. She was unconscious, but appeared otherwise uninjured.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he moved to Benny; his sword was across the room, blood smeared along one side of it, and exactly like Charlie and Jo, Dean found a dart on him. It had to ’ve been some kind of potion to knock people out, though why the Stormridge soldiers hadn't just killed them eluded Dean.

Either way, both of them were okay, and Dean finally glanced up at the cell Cas had been in—unsurprisingly it was empty.  _ Fuck. _

There wasn't time to think a plan through, they were too close to the border. Dean's boots pounded into stone as he ran out of the room, down the stairs.

“Stay with her!” he ordered when Garth shot to his feet.

Another wave of guilt hit him as he rushed toward the forest path. Jo wasn't just his soldier—she was his sister. Ellen's daughter. When she'd joined the Royal Guard the first chance she'd gotten, Ellen'd been fit to tear Dean a new one, but Dean had sworn he'd look after Jo.

He'd been rapidly rising through the ranks then, and a few favors had ensured Jo was under his command. She was capable, smart, one of his fiercest fighters. Not stopping to check on her went against every fibre in his body but there was no way he could let Stormridge have something as dangerous as a shadowlight could be.

He heard it ten minutes into his sprint—a low growl he instantly recognized. What the hell was Baby doing out there? Rounding the corner, Dean slammed one palm after the other into his chest, calling his sword and shield.

Two Stormridge soldiers were trying to drag Cas forward, one slumped on the ground, out cold or dead, and another was grappling with Baby. She had him on the ground, jaws snapping at his face, and her claws scraping against his chainmail. Both of his hands were occupied with holding her back, and if the situation wasn't so damn serious Dean might've laughed at the image they presented—a big, heavily muscled soldier taken down by a little dragon

A few feet ahead of the soldiers, Dean's eyes locked with Kevin Tran's, betrayal a furious flash through his mind when Kevin looked guiltily away.

“Hey,” Dean shouted at the soldiers struggling with Cas. “You want that back, you're gonna have to work a lot harder for it.”

They both paused, turning toward him, their faces grim and determined. The ensuing fight was quick and fierce, but Dean brutally took down his first opponent, and then the second who'd tried to keep going with Cas.

Pausing for a moment once both were dispatched, he glared at Cas, jabbing his finger at him. “Don't you dare move.”

Cas opened his mouth and seemed momentarily defiant, then he pursed his lips, and offered a slight nod, shoulders stiff. Storing his shield, he gave Cas a measured look, unsure what exactly to make of what he'd seen. It was probably all some kind of theatrics for Dean once Cas had known they were never going to escape.

Gaze hard, he stalked toward Kevin. He was standing frozen in the path up ahead, brown eyes wide and fearful, one arm wrapped protectively around his waist. Good, he  _ deserved _ to be scared.

“The hell did you do, Kevin?” Dean demanded, voice dangerous.

“Dean it's—I—it's not what you think, okay?” Kevin pleaded, hands coming up defensively in front of him as he backed up a little. “They threatened my mom, okay? They knew stuff about us.”

“What did you  _ do?”  _ Dean asked, quieter but no less terrifying judging by the panic in Kevin's expression—he blanched, but did nothing more than stare silently.

“You tampered with the sigils,” Dean growled, rage rising up in him like a whipping wind. “No other way they could get past the border without setting off the alarm, and we all know how  _ gifted _ Kevin Tran is with magic, don't we?”

Eyes watering, Kevin dropped his gaze to the small patch of ground between them.

“So what, Kevin? You let them in and what? Did you help them do that to Jo?  _ Did you hurt her?” _ Dean's fingers squeezed tighter around the hilt of his sword, seeing red and wanting to take his fury out on  _ someone. _

Kevin's eyes flew up to him. “Dean, no. I wouldn't—they wanted to  _ kill _ the guards. I made the potion to knock them out instead, but Jo—”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “Jo’s resistant to those kindsa charms. She's always had a weird tolerance.”

“It made her woozy.” Tears spilled over Kevin's cheeks. “One of them punched her, there wasn't anything I could do.”

Grabbing Kevin by the shoulder, Dean shoved him back toward the tower. “You should've come to me in the first place, you should've had a goddamn backbone.”

No argument came from him, he just trudged back the way Dean had sent him. Along his way, Dean collected Cas from where he'd been silently surveying the entire scene. 


	4. Chapter 4

Kevin was standing in the corner of the cell, shoulders against the stone walls, arms wrapped tightly around himself. His eyes were downcast, and his entire posture slumped. If he hadn’t just willfully participated in treason, Dean might’ve even felt sorry for him.

“How did they contact you?” Dean asked, tone deceptively gentle.

Kevin held himself tighter then answered with a tremble in his voice, “Letters. There were letters. First at my house but then… then I found one here too, under my pillow in the bunk room.”

“When?”

“It started two weeks ago. I didn’t know what to do. The first one had my schedule and my mom's at the bakery inside. They said if I told anyone they’d kill her.” Kevin looked up at him then, eyes shining with regret and genuine fear. “It was pretty damn graphic, okay? And I didn’t know what to  _ do. _ Whoever it was, they got into my house when I was on shift. They left it on my kitchen table. And… and the next night I found the one under my pillow here. Who was I supposed to trust?”

“No one ever approached you in person?” Dean questioned, an uneasy feeling threading through him.

Kevin shook his head and shifted on his feet. “Not me. Mom said some men she didn’t know came into the bakery, though. They didn’t do anything to her, but she said they were intimidating, and you know my mom, Dean—it’s not easy to scare her.”

Letting out a sigh, Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. Great. So he was facing at least three accomplices; the two men Linda Tran hadn’t recognized and one of the guards. There weren’t enough guards still in Shepherd's Bend that Linda wouldn’t have recognized one if they’d been one of the men in her bakery.

There were three unknown variables too many, in Dean's opinion. The more he learned from Kevin over the course of the interrogation, the more paranoid he became. At least one guard being in on the plan complicated things drastically. Dean personally knew every guard under his command. He’d seen battle with them, he’d fought alongside them, commanded them.

His stomach churned at the thought of any of them being involved. He trusted them all with his life—or he had. Jo, Charlie, Benny, there was no way they were involved. They couldn’t be. It wasn’t a coincidence that the three people he most trusted had been targeted in the attack.

All three were incapacitated to varying degrees. Sam had done what he could, but it would take a while for the potion to clear their systems. Benny was already awake, though drowsy and disoriented.

When he'd learned all he could from Kevin, Dean left him in the cell, and Kevin didn't protest. He felt bad for him, but whatever Kevin’s reasons, he'd still have to face the consequences for his actions. Leaning against the outside of the door, Dean tipped his head back against the wood and sighed, worn out and drained already.

By the entrance door, Garth stood vigilant and unusually grim. His cheerful disposition had been subdued since they'd found Jo, and Dean couldn't blame him.

Turning everything over in his mind just twisted Dean's insides up more. It hadn't seemed like Cas'd been a willing participant in his escape back there, but that could easily have been calculated in case they failed.

Since he'd brought Cas here, three of the people closest to him had been hurt, and that was weighing heavily on Dean's conscience. It was likely Stormridge would make another attempt, especially considering the traitor—or traitors—they had in the guard.

Dean didn't know who to trust, who he could leave watching Cas and expect for him to stay out of Stormridge hands. He didn’t know how long he had before the next attack would come either. With an inside man, Stormridge would soon know they were weakened.

They’d already sent word for reinforcements, but they could take too long to come—and they’d just provide Dean with more people to be wary of. It was bad enough doubting the people he knew so well, but bringing in even more that he didn’t? Dean wasn’t confident about the odds Cas would remain in his cell and away from whatever nefarious purpose Stormridge sought him for.

Only one solution came to him and it was one he recoiled at the thought of. If he took Cas from Shepherd’s Bend, he’d remove the temptation from the traitors, and he’d protect his friends and Sam. His plan’d hinge on no one knowing where they were going, and no one finding out they’d left until they were far enough away that they wouldn’t be easily found.

The plan was rash, probably stupid, but it would give Dean space and time to figure out a better one without putting his friends, family, and the kingdom in danger in the meantime. ’Cause that’s what Cas was, a threat to all of their safety. The longer he remained there contemplating their options, the stronger Dean’s conviction became.

He needed to get them out of the tower and to Sam’s without being seen. To do that he needed at least one accomplice. Thankfully Garth was the one on guard up here. Besides Sam, Jo, Benny, and Charlie, Dean trusted Garth most.

Pushing off from the wooden door behind him, Dean put his plan into motion.

 

*****

 

“This plan of yours is absurd,” Cas complained, shifting in front of Dean on the horse, bringing his lower body into firmer contact with Dean’s.

Heat pooled in Dean’s gut, but he pushed it down. What was wrong with him? “Didn’t ask for your opinion, shadowlight.”

Baby flew ahead of them as they rode away from Shepherd’s Bend, Cas concealed from view in a navy blue hooded cloak Sam had enchanted. It was designed to divert attention away from the wearer, make them inconspicuous, but it was only a prototype. It'd seemed to have worked on their way out of town, but Sam couldn't guarantee how long it would last.

The provisions Sam had brought them were strapped to the horse as well, though they hadn't taken much—a charmed tent that would spring up and collapse with a verbal command, enough water and food to last for a few days with Dean supplementing it by hunting, and the things he would need to do that, a pouch containing Dean's moderate emergency funds, and a few other odds and ends.

The enchantment on the dark grey blanket over their horse's back was a particularly brilliant stroke of genius on Sam's part. It was designed in a similar fashion to Dean's armor, lessening their weight on the horse and giving them the ability to ride it longer and further than two grown men riding double ought to be able to.

They’d have a three hour head start before Garth would be discovered unconscious at the next shift change courtesy of a potion of Sam’s devising. Dean couldn’t deny Garth’s suggestion to alleviate suspicion from falling on him and Sam was clever, even if Dean himself didn’t like it.

Garth was gonna claim Dean’d fallen prey to the shadowlight’s charms and planned to run off with him. Cas, he’d say, had used his powers to knock him out before they’d escaped. The part of Dean’s plan that bothered him most was leaving Sam and Garth to fend for themselves during all of this, but Sam wasn’t about to leave Jo behind, and Dean wouldn’t want him to.

They were safer this way. Sam could take care of himself, whether Dean liked the idea or not. And with the way they’d set things up, the false trail Sam had planted—it’d leave no room for anyone to suspect Dean had given him any indication of his intended whereabouts.

It was the best he could do, though trusting Sam to be okay without him chafed.

Controlling the reins around Cas wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but Dean could handle it. Cas maintained his balance surprisingly easy, and Dean tried not to think too much about the powerful thighs, and solid torso that were responsible. The only reason Dean kept getting distracted by things like that was ’cause Cas was a shadowlight—and powers or not, they were known to be practically irresistible in myth.

Dean spurred their horse faster. The cold wind whipping at their faces prevented any further attempts to talk, for which Dean was grateful. It was unfair, the reaction his body had to Cas’s voice, low and smokey-rough.

Forcing his thoughts back to the task at hand,  _ again,  _ Dean looked up above at the sun overhead. By his estimation they had two hours left before anyone would even attempt to pursue them. He hadn't told Sam where they were going, mostly because he hadn't even known himself, but also to give Sam deniability. He couldn't be compelled if he truly didn't know.

Whistling loudly, he called Baby back to him, possibly taking a little too much joy in the way Cas flinched at the shrill sound. He didn't want her too far ahead. “Stay close,” he shouted to her when she'd drawn up beside them at eye level with him.

Dean chose their path at random as they went. Turning left or right at forks in the dirt road at random. The further they got from Shepherd's Bend, the easier he found it to consider their options. Dean hadn't just traveled most of Northern Laurellia throughout the war; he'd studied the entire country through maps, committing the geography to memory.

Part of why he'd so rapidly risen through the ranks was his ability to make connections between seemingly random attacks, to piece together enemy strategy from bits and pieces, and that ability had led to his inclusion in lots of high ranking meetings. His superiors had put him to use and by the end of the war he was frequently working on deciphering intelligence for their own counterattacks.

Now he put those same skills to use, sorting through the options and selecting a place they’d be able to shelter at for a few days. The Redwood Forest was somewhere they could get to by nightfall allowing breaks for the horse—if luck was on their side.

He could also take them off the main roads and avoid the townships they tended to pass through. Mind settled on a course, Dean relaxed into the ride a little bit and tried his damndest to ignore the warm body in front of him.

 

*****

 

In a thicket of birch trees edging a rolling field of browning grass, they took their first break of the day. A nearby slow flowing river provided water for the horse, and Dean dug through the saddlebag he'd placed the food in.

Glancing over his shoulder at where he'd left Cas reclining against a tree with a strong warning not to run, Dean shifted his weight foot to foot.

“What?” Cas asked warily, eyes scanning Dean's face.

Scowling, Dean turned to face him all the way. “Are you hungry?”

Cas took his time answering, an uncertain edge to his voice, “Yes?”

Nodding, Dean turned back to the saddlebag and paused, frowning. “I don't—uh, what d'you guys even eat? Did they feed you earlier?”

Sudden guilt churned in his stomach, even if Cas was working with the enemy, and even if he didn't deserve to be treated with compassion after the cruel trick he'd played on Dean so long ago, there were still basics even prisoners deserved in Dean's opinion. Basics he'd failed to ensure would be provided.

“No,” Cas admitted, gaze drifting to the side a little, shrugging a shoulder. “We mostly eat the same things you do.”

Guilt magnified, Dean pulled a double portion of bread, dried meat, and cheese out for Cas. He grabbed the two canteens of water while he was at it, then arms loaded up, he stalked over to where Cas was sitting and dropped down beside him, leaving plenty of space between them.

Baby swiftly swooped down from above and landed smugly in between their legs, curling her tail around Cas's calf and laying her head on Dean's thigh.

“Finished hunting, huh?” he asked her with amusement, smiling when she sniffed and closed her eyes in response.

He glanced over, and noted the fond look on Cas's face as he watched Baby get comfortable. That small smile and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes looked good on him.

Awkwardly, Dean handed over Cas's food and water, and then stared determinedly off at the field while they ate. Finally his curiosity got the better of him. “Tell me what happened this morning.”

“You're not going to believe me,” Cas answered stiffly. He took a long pull of his water, eyes on Dean. Heat pooled in Dean's gut as he watched Cas's throat work with each swallow.

Irritated at his own reaction, Dean looked away again, voice harsh, “Probably not, but tell me anyway.”

Cas sighed, a resigned sound that just annoyed Dean more. “What do you want me to say? The soldiers showed up and dragged me from the cell. I would have resisted better but,” he held up his bound wrists. “I was a little tied up.”

Involuntarily, Dean cracked a smile at the joke before he hardened his expression again. “Did you know ’em?”

“No.”

“So what would they want you for, then?” Dean asked, giving Cas a hard look. “If you don't know them and you're not working for them, what would they even want with you?”

“They didn't exactly take the time to introduce themselves,” Cas muttered, picking at the bread remaining in his lap. “Or let me in on their plan. I have no idea.”

“Really? That's all you got?” Dean asked skeptically. “You don't  _ know. _ Well, what  _ do _ you know? ’Cause I got three injured soldiers—my  _ friends _ —and no answers.”

“I'm sorry they were hurt,” Cas said, his tone sounding so damn genuine that Dean almost believed it. He had to remind himself why he shouldn't. “I wish I had insight to give you, Dean.”

Frustrated, Dean grit his teeth, the muscles in his jaw ticking. He didn't like not knowing exactly what was happening. It left him feeling wrong-footed.

One thing he knew for sure was that even if Cas wasn't working with Stormridge—and that possibility was infinitesimally small—nothing good would come of letting him fall into their hands either.

“Didn't the boy working with them tell you anything?” Cas asked after a moment of silence. “He was  _ actually _ working with them so—”

“Kevin was blackmailed. He's an idiot for not coming to me, but he didn't know why they wanted you. Hell, I'm still not convinced you're not in on it.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas brushed the white crumbs from his lap. Dean stared, lips involuntarily parting at the way the material of the cloak was pooling around his thighs and parted just above his waist like a welcome sign drawing attention to—

“If you choose to be ignorant in the face of proof, I can't convince you otherwise,” Cas retorted, sounding angry.

Oh rich,  _ he _ was angry. Like he hadn't earned his reputation as a liar all on his own. Dean pushed to his feet, glaring down at Cas. “Kinda hard to believe anything you say, Cas, and you damn well know why.”

Regret flitted across Cas's face, and Dean just needed to get his head on straight. There was no way it was anything but an act. “Dean—”

“Get up,” Dean demanded, stomping back toward the horse. “We need to keep moving.”

He couldn't let himself be fooled by Cas, not again.

 

*****

 

The trees around them were old, large and looming tall overhead. Brown, red, and yellow leaves were drifting down with every gust of chill wind.

The sun had already set, and the last of its orange-pink glow was rapidly fading from the sky along with it as they came across a small clearing near the bank of a clear fast flowing stream.

Moss, and tree sap, and crisp fall air filled his senses, and Dean quickly took stock of the area—it was as good a spot as any. They were far from Shepherd's Bend, deep in The Redwood Forest. Safe was a relative term, but this was the closest he could get them to it.

Dean urged the horse to a halt, and slipped from its back, tugging Cas down after him. He tried and failed not to notice the way Cas allowed himself to be handled so willingly. The lack of fear in his gaze when they stood toe to toe.

Then again, if he were in Cas's shoes, damn right Dean would put on the same show of bravery. He wouldn't let himself be impressed by it.

The stupid navy cloak Cas was wearing ought to have looked ridiculous, but it didn't. The dark shade of blue made Cas's unusual sapphire eyes seem deeper, more vibrant. The way the cloak hung from his shoulders only emphasized his solid build. The kind of build Dean had always admired, had always sought out in a bed partner.

There were purple smudges beneath Cas's eyes. He looked like he might fall over any minute, but he held Dean's assessing gaze steadily nonetheless. Something squeezed in his chest, making his breath catch. Dean's fingers curled around the hood shrouding Cas's head and tugged it down before he could curb the impulse, cursing himself for the messy dark hair he revealed.

“When's the last time you slept?” he asked, not that he really cared.

“Serens don't sleep,” Cas replied, barely suppressing a yawn.

Raising an eyebrow, Dean turned a little, leading the horse a few paces closer to the stream and letting it drink. “You sure about that?”

“Of course I'm sure,” Cas snapped, eyes suddenly bright with indignation. “I've never slept before. We meditate to regain our energy, but we don't sleep.”

“Huh,” Dean grunted. “Well when's the last time you did that?”

Cas's gaze dropped, his brow furrowed. “Last night. It's not working.”

“Did ya stop to think it might be ’cause of the binding?” Dean asked as it occurred to him.

“I'd considered that,” Cas replied coolly, eyes unwavering once more on Dean's as though he was pointing out the obvious—Dean was responsible for that.

Clearing his throat, Dean looked away and focused on getting the horse taken care of. Once the horse'd finished drinking, Dean led him over to a tree and secured him.

He unbuckled the saddlebags as well, hoisting the gear over his shoulder and he patted the horse's flank gently—all the while he kept an eye on Cas, not trusting enough to fully ignore him.

Scanning the terrain, he selected a spot further upstream for them and hung the saddlebag rigging from a sturdy branch. Then he set about digging for the little box that would become their tent.

Closing his palm around it, he withdrew it, shiny and black, no bigger than his hand. Pressing his thumb to one smooth surface, Dean mumbled the strange word Sam had taught him to trigger it, then he tossed it onto the ground a few feet away. A glow started up inside the box, growing brighter by the second until blinding light forced Dean's eyes closed.

It faded quickly and he blinked cautiously, opening his eyes to take in the familiar shape of an off white soldier's tent in front of him. It wasn't very large, though he hadn't expected it would be.

That meant close quarters. Dean frowned, feeling Cas's eyes on him. Sighing, he spun around and glared at Cas. “You stay where you are. I'm gonna gather wood for a fire.”

“Where would I go?” Cas asked rhetorically, holding up his hands and showing off the glowing rope.

Dean whistled for Baby and a moment later she landed in front of him, wings fluttering, head tilted curiously. “Watch him,” Dean told her, jerking his head toward Cas. Don't let him go anywhere.”

She eyed Dean intently another moment before slinking over to sit near Cas, her attention fully on him. Satisfied she'd do a good job keeping their prisoner from escaping, Dean set off into the rapidly darkening treeline.


	5. Chapter 5

Following the glow of Cas's rope back to their makeshift camp in the full dark, Dean was careful of his step. His arms were full of the wood he'd gathered, and he paused in the shadow of a large tree at the sound of Cas's voice filtering through the night.

Next to the tent, Cas had his cloak spread out on the ground beneath him. He was lying back on it, long body on display with his legs crossed, dark pants stretched snug. Staring up at the stars with shadowy leaves floating down around him every so often, Cas looked beautiful.

Baby had clearly taken a shine to him, ’cause she was curled up at his side, her wing spread over his abdomen and her head nestled on his chest as he gently pet the spot between her horns.

_ Two traitors,  _ Dean thought bitterly. He shifted closer in the shadows until he could make out what Cas was saying.

“... nothing I say will change his mind. He hates me, and I deserve it. Why would he ever believe I was there to protect him? Or that I've  _ been _ protecting him since I was old enough to disappear on my own for days unnoticed. Then weeks until hardly anyone paid attention to my absence.”

Cas let out a sigh of frustration. “He'll never believe I was there from the very first battle he fought in, shadowing and protecting him.”

Indignation filled up Dean's chest—he was capable of protecting  _ himself.  _ He hadn't needed Cas's protection, hadn't needed  _ anyone's. _

“I don't blame him,” Cas said in response to the snuff Baby made, his voice a little thick. “He has no reason to believe I'm speaking the truth. I wish I could convince him otherwise. Whatever plan Stormridge has for me, it's not good, and if he wasn't so hellbent on believing I'm his enemy maybe we could figure it out together.”

Baby let out a little huff and rubbed her chin on Cas's chest.

“Not that I expect that'll happen anytime soon. He's more stubborn than Balthazar,” Cas said blackly. Then one corner of his lips lifted in the faintest of smirks. “Haven't seen him in almost a year. I wonder if he even knows I'm gone yet.”

He lapsed into silence then, leaving Dean to watch the shadows from the glowing orange-gold rope dance over Cas's face—shadows and light playing over exactly the kind of handsome features that always made Dean weak in the knees. His sharp jaw alone was breathtaking.

It was like Cas'd been sent to test him, and despite everything, Dean felt a tug to him. No amount of telling himself it was shadowlight trickery dampened the way his body reacted to Cas.

If what Cas said was true—if he'd been looking out for Dean all these years as what? A sort of penance? It  _ still _ wouldn't make up for what he'd done.

Dean didn't buy it, not for a second. Cas must've heard his approach and tried to get on his good side. Well, it wouldn't work; Dean didn't  _ have  _ a good side as far as any shadowlight was concerned.

And especially not this one.

He strode into camp after a few more minutes of steeling himself. He wouldn't let Cas get under his skin. Dean had one job here, one mission: keep Cas from Stormridge. To do that he needed a clear head, something to eat, and a good night's rest.

Not that he expected he'd get either the first or last with Cas there.

“Who's Balthazar?” he asked, and Cas looked over at him startled.

Cas bit at his bottom lip. “My older brother. How long were you there?”

“Not long,” Dean shrugged an impassive shoulder, giving no indication he'd heard what Cas had said other than that.

“I dug a firepit.” Cas pointed to a hole far enough away from the tent to be safe, changing the subject. “And filled the canteens from the stream. They have quite an enchantment on them.”

Dean glared at Baby where she had one eye open looking at him. “Some guard you turned out to be.” She just sniffed and closed her eyes again with a restless swish of her tail.

Dean rolled his eyes and headed for the pit Cas had dug. “Yeah, Sam came up with that. Purifies the water and makes it safer to drink.”

“Your brother’s very clever.”

“I think so,” Dean agreed, starting the fire.

Once it was going, flames dancing high and providing a bit of warmth and light, Dean wandered over to the saddlebags and grabbed their dinner. The same things as earlier, accompanied by fresh picked apples Sam had just gotten.

“Ours are purple and orange,” Cas mentioned as Dean handed his over.

Nose wrinkling, he raised an eyebrow at Cas. “What? Apples?”

“Mmm.” Cas nodded and took a bite, the juicy fruit leaving his pink lips shiny.

Dean bit back a groan and made himself look away. “How d'you even know they're apples then? I've never heard of a purple and orange apple.”

“How do you know green apples are apples? Or yellow ones?” Cas asked, holding up the red skinned fruit to make his point.

Dean pursed his lips considering. “I guess taste, texture, the seeds, and stuff?”

Cas lifted a brow. “Right, and our apples have all of those in common with yours; the only discernible difference is their color.”

“Huh.” Dean rubbed at the apple in his hand, thumb gliding over the smooth skin. “Bet they'd fetch a pretty penny.”

Cas chewed another bite before he answered. “I'm not interested in money.”

_ Right, what would a shadowlight need money for? _ Dean bit into his apple, sweet-tart juice and firm fruit filling his mouth. He chewed a bit, and around his food replied, “Nah? So what’re you interested in?”

Cas wrinkled his nose. “Don't think I don't know what you're doing.”

Shrugging a nonchalant shoulder, Dean widened his eyes innocently. “No clue what you're talkin’ about.”

Cas’s lips tugged up into a small smile. “It's fine. I would answer your questions anyway. You won't like the answer to this one, though. It's boring.”

“Whatever, tell me anyway.” Dean shoved a chunk of bread into his mouth.

Cas evaluated Dean's seriousness, gaze roving over his features. “Well when I'm not—” he quickly cut off whatever he'd been about to say. Dean was instantly suspicious. “Here,” he substituted. “I study magic. I grew up in the forest with my mother, brothers, and sisters. Other forest guardians too here and there, but we were isolated. I spent much of my time focused on learning the most I could about my power and testing its limits. The traders who visited the edges of our forest, always brought me books, and I was so eager to learn everything I could. Balthazar and I would compete over who shifted best and fastest, who could wind whisper the farthest—”

It was so easy to get caught up in what Cas was saying, in the picture he was painting. Dean quickly forgot just who he was talking to. “Wind whisper?”

“It's a sort of spell we do, it lets us send a secret great distances and only the intended target can hear it. Balthazar's were always funny. I used to wish I could be more like him, and make people laugh.” Cas looked at the fire.

It was right on the tip of Dean's tongue to bitingly ask if that's what he'd been doing with the fake potion he'd peddled him, but he held himself back. If he was gonna get Cas to spill his guts about whatever he was working with Stormridge for, he needed to try another tack. Intimidation wasn't working, maybe pretending to play nice would. “So you can tell secrets long distance, you can turn into a pegasus, what else can you do?”

Cas's eyes were guarded when he glanced back over at Dean. “Not just a pegasus. I've mastered several creatures, though the easiest for me has always been a pegasus. I can travel invisibly. I can heal a variety of injuries with a touch.” His gaze drifted, maybe he was deciding how much to tell. “I know a multitude of spells, and um, potions.”

“That one I remember,” Dean said caustically before he could help himself.

Cas looked sharply over at him, eyes wide. “Dean, I—”

“Save it, Cas. Don't wanna hear it,” Dean muttered, climbing to his feet. “Finish eating, I'm not hungry anymore.”

Strained silence strung out between them, thick in the air. 

 

*****

 

Out of eyesight but within earshot, Dean stood facing away from where Cas was behind a tree. Dean had already relieved himself, and he was impatiently waiting for Cas to hurry up so they could head back to the tent for the night. He tapped his boot impatiently.

“Oh, c’mon, what the hell’s taking so long?” he grumbled.

Stiffly, Cas replied, “So sorry that I’m not accustomed to an audience.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean leaned back against the tree he was standing in front of. “It’s not like I’m  _ watching.” _

“You’re listening.”

Crossing his arms, Dean glared into the darkness. “I’m—it’s not like I’m listening for  _ that.” _

“Yes, well, it appears my bladder can’t differentiate.” Some leaves crunched over in Cas's direction, probably him shifting uncomfortably. “Look, I’m not going to go anywhere. I’m bound and vulnerable. You’re my best option to remain safe while I’m incapacitated. You clearly don’t trust me, but trust  _ that.” _

After a moment, Dean had to admit Cas was right. If he did somehow manage to escape, whoever he came across might be a hell of a lot worse than Dean was. Sighing, he tipped his head back and peered up at the stars peeking through the foliage above him. “Fine. But you run and I swear to God Almighty, Cas, I’ll make you sorry.”

“Got it.”

Rolling his eyes again, Dean picked his way back toward the fire he could see burning through the trees. “Don’t take long.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Back at the tent, Dean casted a glance over to where Baby was already sleeping curled up at the base of a tree. She must’ve been exhausted, ’cause she usually didn’t fall asleep before he did. He wandered over to the branch where the saddlebags were hanging and started the process of stripping off his armor. Creatively, he found places to rest everything until he was down to a simple linen shirt, his trousers and boots.

When he looked up from his task, chestplate tucked under his arm, he found Cas watching him from the edge of the forest. His cheeks were pink tinged, his eyes wide and appreciative. An answering throb of lust jolted through Dean’s body.

Ignoring it, he turned away and moved to the entrance flaps of the tent. “C’mon. I’m beat and the sooner I get you secured in here the sooner I can crash.”

“Of course,” came Cas’s reply, and if his already deep voice was a little lower than usual, well, Dean pretended it didn’t have any effect on him.

The both silently unlaced and removed their boots, leaving them outside the tent. Cas crawled in first at Dean’s insistence, and Dean followed him. The ground was cushioned with layers of blankets, no pillows, but Dean’d slept in worse.

Exactly as he’d anticipated, there wasn’t much room. The triangular shape of the tent didn’t leave them much head room on either side, and they were close enough that there was very little chance they weren’t going to wind up touching during the night. Dean gritted his teeth.

On the back wall, just like he’d asked Sam, the tent’d been enchanted with a reinforced hook. Cas followed his gaze, heaved a put out sigh, and crawled beneath the top blanket before he lifted his wrists.

It wasn’t hot, Dean told himself as he secured Cas’s wrists. The way his pants were tightening said otherwise, but he quickly finished his task and rolled over, pulling the blanket over top of himself.

At least this way he couldn’t see how Cas looked all spread out like that anymore, eyes dark in the glow of the rope. Even if the image seemed to be seared into his brain.

He needed to get himself under control. He needed to stop thinking of Cas in those terms.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas said softly, long moments after Dean had gone still.

“Go to sleep, Cas.”

It was so much harder to do than it was to say.


	6. Chapter 6

Everything was quiet on the second day. In the time they'd been camped, Dean’d run the gamut of his emotions. He was frustrated that he still couldn’t get Cas to admit he was working with Stormridge, or at least tell him what they wanted him for.

That morning he'd startled awake from troubled dreams, and while that wasn't much different than any other night, an unsettled feeling had taken root in his chest.

Dressing in his full armor, packing up all of their gear, he decided they'd move on after they ate.

He tossed Cas a roll and another apple, and then snagged one for himself as well, settling down not far from him to eat. Baby was off who knew where, likely hunting down her breakfast. She really thrived in the wild like this.

“Eat fast, I wanna get a move on today,” Dean grumbled. He bit into the roll, and grimaced at the stale taste.

Cas glanced at him, eyebrows drawn up. “Any particular reason?”

“Can't be too cautious.” Dean shrugged, and watched Cas start eating. He couldn't fully explain the weird itch at the back of his neck, or the agitated feeling in his stomach.

“We don't even really know we're being pursued you know,” Cas pointed out.

“We are,” Dean said grimly. “I can tell.” Cas raised an eyebrow, clearly doubting. “Call it a gut feeling or intuition, I dunno, but I can feel ’em closing in. I got real good at trusting my gut real fast when I was fighting.”

“I know,” Cas whispered so softly Dean wasn't sure he was meant to hear it at all.

Ignoring Cas's admission, Dean bit into the dry bread and tore a piece off with his teeth. He absently wondered if Sam had picked the rolls up at Linda Tran's bakery. His stomach turned a little, wondering how she was taking the news about Kevin.

Forcing himself to chew and swallow, he turned his mind to finding them another safe enough place to take shelter.

Shortly after he finished his apple, the tart taste still sharp on his tongue, he noticed it. Branches snapping—faint, but too many too regularly to be animals. A lot of people were headed their way.

He didn't have much time to think, he jumped to his feet and quickly tugged Cas to standing. “Run,” he urged, shoving Cas by the shoulder.

Cas remained frozen, head cocking to the side like he was trying to figure out what the hell Dean's damage was.

“For fuck's sake, Cas,” Dean muttered, shoving him in the opposite direction of the approaching soldiers. “They're coming. I can't protect you and fight them all off at the same time. You gotta run. I'll find you again after.”

Eyes widening, Cas glanced past Dean's shoulder—they were still too far away to see, but they were getting closer, trying to be stealthy.

“Dean, unbind me and let me help,” Cas requested with a tinge of desperation.

As if Dean was that stupid. The last thing he was gonna do if Cas  _ was  _ working for Stormridge was unbind him. “Not happening.”

“Dean—”

“Wanna prove to me you're not working with them? Then  _ run _ instead ’a distractin’ me ’n gettin’ me killed.”

Cas let out a growl of frustration. “You're so damn stubborn,” he whispered harshly.

Smirking, Dean pressed his palms to his chestplate and called his sword and shield. “So I been told.”

“Don't you  _ dare _ die,” Cas said fiercely, eyes burning at Dean.

Something warm twisted in Dean's gut even if he knew it was stupid. Cas didn't really care whether Dean lived or died, all he cared about was figuring out a way to get out of this that best served him. “Not plannin’ to. Now get the hell outta here.”

With one last lingering, unreadable look, Cas nodded gently. A second later he took off in the direction Dean'd shoved him.  _ Good. _

The approaching soldiers were close now, and Dean fully faced where they'd break out into the clearing any second. He rolled his shoulders back and got himself ready to fight.

It didn't start how Dean expected; they didn't rush out and try to overwhelm him. They paused, hidden in the shadows though he felt their eyes on him.

“Well,” he yelled, voice hard. “You waitin’ for a written invitation? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm fresh outta paper, so don't hold your breath for one.”

“Give us the shadowlight and you could still walk away,” an oily masculine voice called back. “Or choose death, either way we'll get it, so I really don't care which one you choose. In fact, I'd almost prefer you choose to fight. It's so much  _ better _ when there's a challenge. Even as little challenge as you’d provide.”

Dean bristled, but held himself back. Stalling to give Cas as much of a head start as he could wasn’t gonna help much if he got stupid ’cause this guy pissed him off. He didn’t know how many of them there were, but he knew he’d be screwed if he tried to take them all at once.

“You want him? Come get me,” he shouted, grinning.

He turned around, and with a running start he leapt across the stream. He kept running into the woods ahead, the sound of muttered curses and pounding feet following him. Scanning the area, he searched for a good place to make his stand.

Fallen leaves crunched under foot. Dean’s breaths came fast. He vaulted over massive roots, the terrain gradually becoming a steeper incline. Behind him, he heard the soldiers following him and smirked.

They were close, but they were spread out now. The fastest runners among them were narrowing the gap, but they weren’t all as fast as Dean.

He leapt over a fallen log at the top of the hill he’d ascended and spun around to face the closest soldier. Shield raising, he launched himself forward.

The soldier’s surprise only lasted a moment. It was enough for Dean to gain an advantage. He slashed at the soldier’s thigh near his groin—a deep cut that sank through his pants and cleaved deep into flesh. The soldier went down with a shout, blood gushing from his wound.

Dean didn’t wait to see him hit the ground. Another soldier reached the summit. Dean lacked the element of surprise this time. They fought, the clash of their swords meeting clanged loud, the reverberation of it traveling up Dean’s arm.

Sweat beaded on his brow, his muscles warming with strain. His attention was split between the opponent in front of him and tracking the others approaching. Using his shield to block a blow and shove the soldier back, Dean hacked at the side of his neck.

The force of his strike cut deep through muscle, hopefully severing an artery in the process. He withdrew his blade, a slick wet squelch and a violent spray of blood accompanying it. The soldier's eyes went wide as he fell backwards and slid a few feet down the hill.

Dean quickly surveyed the scene below him. Over twenty more soldiers by his estimate, closing fast.

“Shit.”

Grimacing, he turned and headed further into the forest.

Every so often he found a good enough spot for a swift attack on his closest pursuers, but his muscles were tiring. Five down, now, by his count. The incline of the earth beneath them was rapidly steepening.

Running got harder. His lungs ached, his thigh muscles strained, and he was losing energy fast.

His odds of survival went from bad to worse as he climbed to the top of what he’d hoped was another slight plateau. Ahead of him there was a plateau for sure, but it jutted out no more than ten feet. After that it gave way to a jagged cliff. He was trapped.

Breathing heavy, Dean spun around halfway across the plateau and faced the woods. He had to make a stand—they weren’t taking him alive.

_ Cas… _ he didn’t have time to worry about what would happen to Cas. All he could do was take down as many Stormridge soldiers as he could before he succumbed. Damn if he’d go down without a hell of a fight.

The first couple of soldiers to break through the trees Dean took out quickly, efficient and brutal.

And then they got smart. His advantage was gone. He couldn’t lure them into one on one fights with nowhere left to run.

Three of them cautiously advanced on him. Dean backed away, keenly aware of how close he was getting to the cliff’s edge. His heart thundered, pulse loud in his ears.

A well aimed kick to one soldier’s knee dropped him temporarily to the ground with a curse, and Dean struck at one of the others. They struggled.

A heavy impact to his back sent Dean stumbling forward, pain radiating through his muscles. He narrowly avoided being impaled on his opponent’s blade as he recovered.

There were too many. A boot to the bend of his knee took him down. He slashed wildly in an attempt to get the men surrounding him to back up. He needed to  _ get up. _

The same sneering voice as earlier shouted, “Take him alive!”

“Like hell,” Dean mumbled. A fist connected with his right cheek, followed swiftly by another to his left temple—flashing bright pain in his head and bursting copper across his tongue. His vision swam. A burst of agony exploded in his bicep with a blow hard enough to force his grip loose on his blade. Another soldier knocked it from his hand entirely.

On one knee, swords aimed at him, no weapon of his own, and arm going rapidly numb—Dean was done for.

But he wasn’t dead yet and they  _ weren't _ taking him.

In a last bid gamble he spun, using his shield as he stood to knock down the soldier who’d gotten behind him. He ran toward the cliff. If he was goin’ out—it was gonna be on his terms.

Surprised shouts echoed behind him, but Dean didn’t care. He tossed his shield down, no need of it anymore. Wind rushed in his ears as he leapt off the edge, fear crowding up in his throat. Breath whooshing from his lungs, he plummeted.

Hurtling toward the trees so far below, he shut his eyes. He was gonna die, and this was gonna hurt.  _ Sorry, Sammy. _

He landed hard on something firm and warm, his front connecting solidly with it, jolting whatever it was before it recovered. He gasped in a breath, good hand scrabbling for purchase and catching in long… hair? “What the hell?”

Dean’s eyes flew open. Ebony shined midnight blue between his clenched fingers. He widened his gaze—a flowing black mane, massive wings.  _ “Cas?” _

Dean struggled to sitting, injured arm and knee throbbing. His head pulsed with a dull ache, his mind hazy. He glanced over his shoulder, fighting a wave of nausea and focusing on the cliff’s edge looming behind them. “Holy shit.  _ Holy shit.” _

A chirp sounded from their left and Baby twisted through the air, a smug look on her face. Two and two clicked together in Dean’s mind. “You broke Cas free?”

She huffed. Even with ice cold air stinging his face, and his mind reeling ’cause he was  _ flying on a shadowlight’s back _ , Dean heard it.

Holy shit, he was  _ flying.  _ His stomach dipped and he clenched his thighs around Cas’s sides, his hands fisting in his mane.

Cas's glowing blue eye clearly contained concern when he looked over his shoulder.

“Humans  _ ain’t _ supposed to fly,” Dean muttered in response.

Cas snorted, a weird too-human sounding thing Dean thought was a chuckle.

After that, Dean lost track of how long they flew for, keeping his eyes focused on the horizon. Looking down or up disoriented him. The last thing he wanted was to be even more dizzy.

 

*****

 

They landed not far outside the village of Bellmoral. Too close for Dean’s comfort, in a clearing not more than a twenty minute walk to town. Almost as soon as Dean slipped from Cas’s back he changed back to a man. Much like it’d gone the last time he’d seen it, it happened between one blink and the next.

Dean swayed on his feet, mind fuzzing. Cas caught him by the arms and Dean bit out a curse at the shock of pain Cas’s grip caused.

Frowning, Cas dropped his hold, eyes growing dark, a stormy, murderous look flitting across his face. “How badly did they hurt you?”

“Not bad,” Dean lied out of habit; his face hurt, his arm was worse, and his knee was swollen and sore.

Head shaking slightly, Cas stepped closer to him again. His fingers traced gently over Dean’s injured arm. “You’re lying.”

“I’m f—” he cut off with a gasp, warmth spreading from Cas’s fingertips through Dean’s entire arm. God, Cas’s eyes were so damn blue. And Dean was caught in them again. “What’re you—?”

“I can heal with a touch, remember?” Cas asked, the sensation slowly fading away.

Dean was startled to notice the pain in his arm was suddenly entirely gone. Almost as startled as he was a second later when Cas dropped to his knees in front of him leaves scattered on the ground crushed under him.

Despite the way his knee ached and his face throbbed, arousal surged hotly in Dean’s blood. A million dirty thoughts flitted through Dean’s mind, all of them revolving around Cas’s pink mouth, his messy hair begging to be tugged.

Fingers brushing his injured knee shook Dean from his thoughts, though the warmth flooding his leg, and the lessening of his pain did nothing to ease the heat slowly rising in Dean’s groin.

Lips parted with harsh breaths, Cas looked up through his lashes at Dean, sweat gathering on his flushed cheekbones. Dean held his own breath as the warmth of Cas’s touch faded, praying Cas wouldn’t notice the awkward way his pants were pushing out at the crotch.

Standing, Cas bit down on his full bottom lip, white teeth digging into pink flesh. He reached out both hands, fingers shaking slightly as they grazed over the stubble on Dean’s right cheek and the hair at his left temple, cobalt eyes never leaving Dean’s.

Warmth slowly filled Dean’s cheek, his head, until the feeling of warm hands and blue eyes were all Dean knew. Gradually the headache that’d been building, the haze in his mind, faded away to nothing.

And then he was standing there, clear headed, staring at Cas with his face flushed, his eyes eyes half-lidded and wet with concern. Concern for  _ Dean. _

Realization tore through him like lightning lancing through him—Cas cared about him. He wasn’t working with Stormridge. That didn’t make sense anymore. And if Cas was telling the truth about that, had he been telling the truth that night he’d been talking to Baby?

Had he really been protecting Dean all this time?

A memory quickly surfaced, one that showed up in his nightmares with alarming frequency. His first battle, facing down a Stormridge soldier more than twice his size. His foot slipping in blood. The whistle of the sword, and then nothing. He’d blinked his open and found the soldier dead on the ground in front of him, a sword through his heart.

He’d always assumed it’d been another Laurellian soldier who’d saved him. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was Cas?

Shades of blue swirled in Cas’s eyes, dimmer than they’d been a moment ago, and Dean wanted to ask so many questions. Cas stumbled, knees buckling as his hands dropped away.

“Shit,” Dean gasped, catching him with his arms under Cas’s, wrapping around his back to hold him up.

“’M fine,” Cas mumbled, trying to get his legs back under himself and failing.

“Now who’s a liar?” Dean asked. “Look, let’s just get you sitting so you can catch your breath. That took a lot out of you, huh?”

Cas hummed, and Dean guided him down to the ground. As soon as he was seated, Baby crowded right up in Cas’s space, sniffing at his face and gently rubbing her horn on his shoulder. Cas soothed her with one of his palms, smoothing it along the scales of her back.

He sighed and looked up at Dean. “Healing like that takes a great deal of energy, it’s something I haven’t done in too long, and combined with being bound. Well….”

Huffing, Dean sat down in front of him. “I could've lived with a bruised cheek, y'know.”

Cas scowled. “I don't like seeing you hurt.”

Cracking a smile, Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I kinda figured.”

“Besides, I'll recover in a few moments, though my magic will take longer. Your injuries weren't too severe, thankfully.”

“What woulda happened if they were?”

A frown tugged Cas's lips down, his eyes going distant as though he was picturing it. “I wouldn't have been able to heal them all.”

The thought was obviously troubling Cas. “Um. Thanks by the way,” Dean mumbled, face burning. “For healing me… but y'know, for comin’ back for me too. You could've easily taken off once Baby broke you free, but you didn't—”

“I wouldn't—”

“Look, what I'm sayin’ is… I believe you. I might—I think I believe it all. I heard what you said to Baby about how you watched out for me.” Dean swallowed roughly, rubbing his jaw, scratchy stubble beneath his fingers. “You really have been protecting me haven't you?”

Cas’s eyes pinned Dean with a shocked stare. “Yes, but I understand why you found that difficult to believe. Frankly, I'm surprised you believe it even now given our history.”

“Look, I'm not gonna apologize. No one in my position woulda trusted you. But… you've saved my life at least twice—”

“Twenty-nine times,” Cas corrected, a smile in his eyes.

Raising a brow, Dean coughed. “Okay, twenty-nine times, so I might've been wrong. Y'know, about shadow—serens. Maybe I was wrong about  _ you.” _

“You were,” Cas confirmed. “But you had reason to be wary. I promised you my potion would work, and it didn't. It wasn't intentional, I swear,” Cas quickly added, deeply felt repentance etched into his face. “I hadn't realized I made a mistake until you came back and then I… I didn't know what to say. There wasn't anything  _ to _ say. I failed you in the worst way, and compounded your pain.”

Looking away, Dean let out a slow breath, years of built up resentment and hate were hard to let go of, but the fact was Cas'd been a kid back then too. He'd made a mistake, and then by the sound of things he'd spent years trying to make it up to Dean from the shadows. “So that's why you've been lookin’ out for me?”

Cheeks flushing, Cas nodded. “As soon as I could get away with leaving.”

A knot in Dean's chest released. The pain of losing his mom was still there, the same raw wound it always was, but the anger, the bitterness that kept him from healing was fading into acceptance.

“Why now though?” he asked, thoughts returning to a question that'd been plaguing him from the moment he overheard Cas talking to Baby that night. “Why'd you let me see you in the first place those nights in the woods?”

Cas's lashes lowered a little, his chin tucking down. “I wanted to know what it felt like to be seen by you,” he answered, looking vulnerable. “I was… lonely I suppose.” He sent Dean a wry smile. “I didn't expect you'd find a way to catch me.”

Dean sent him an awkward half-smile in return, a little more guilt bubbling in his stomach. “Shouldn't underestimate motivated Winchesters.”

“Clearly not.”

Wetting his lips, Dean forced himself back to the task at hand. “Look, not that I don't appreciate the whole baring our souls thing, but we got bigger problems right now.”


	7. Chapter 7

The bedroom Cas'd managed to use his powers to procure for them wasn't the nicest Dean'd been in, but it was far from the worst. There was a double bed with threadbare a threadbare grey quilt and two thin pillows against one wall, a window just to the left of it. On the right a single dark wood nightstand.

On the right wall, there was a door to a small washroom that he hadn't checked out yet. On the left there was a dresser which remained empty thanks to the fact that they'd lost all of their things, including Dean's money—the reason they were currently relying on Cas's power to convince the proprietor they had, in fact, paid for their room.

_ At least it’s clean, _ Dean thought, sitting on the bed, boots and armor off, back propped up against the wall.

And they were relatively safe. The soldiers who’d found them must’ve been better trackers than Dean’d anticipated. It wasn't a mistake he'd make again. A bonus of Cas having flown them to Bellmoral was that there'd be no trail left behind for the soldiers to follow.

Though Cas'd depleted the last of his energy on concealing them and getting them food and a room for the night. The moment the door had closed behind them after they'd eaten down in the tavern, he'd dropped to the hardwood floor of their room and sat catatonic with his legs criss-cross and his eyes closed.

Assuming he was doing the meditating thing, Dean had stripped off his armor, piling it on top of the low dresser. He needed to get a new sword and shield soon to replace his. The spell on his armor was really just a convenient storage enchantment.

Dean glanced over at Cas. He was still totally out of it, body rigid, face slack, and Dean was starting to get bored. He climbed out of bed and wandered into the washroom, surprised and delighted to find a shower. Sometimes in the more provincial towns, baths still had to be hand drawn. The sparkling white porcelain of the tub beckoned him.

He poked his head back into the bedroom. “Hey, I'm gonna hop in the shower, unless you need to use the bathroom.”

Cas made no response.

_ Alright then, _ Dean guessed he was good to go. It took him a moment to figure out the knobs, and several more for the water to heat, but then he grinned. God, he hated being dirty. The promise of cleanliness had him damn near giddy.

Stripping down, he shivered in the cool air. Once he was naked he pulled back the ivory curtain and stepped into the tub. Steam enveloped him, and he sighed as he moved under the hot spay, tipping his face up into the water, then tilting his chin down to let it massage over his scalp.

Oh man, being warm and getting clean felt good. A paper wrapped bar of soap was sitting on a little ledge built into the shower wall, and he opened it quickly. It'd only been a couple days since he'd last bathed, but he'd never liked getting grimy and gross.

And the dried sweat from the battle on top of that? Things'd gotten a little ripe. He took his time soaping up, trailing his frothy hands over his wet skin. His neck and shoulders, under and then down his arms.

He slid his hands over the flat, hard muscles of his stomach and lower, his skin prickling at the slick slow slide. Tipping his head back he tried to be thorough and efficient as he cleaned himself.

Unfortunately his dick was already perking up—too long since he'd last gotten off. The warmth of his own touch didn't help matters. Wildly, he thought about Cas on the other side of the door, and told himself he shouldn't.

The problem was now he was thinking of Cas. His grip around his hardening cock tightened, squeezing a rush of pleasure that chased up his spine. Cas and his incredible blue eyes looking up at Dean, his knees on the forest floor, and oh fuck, Dean couldn't help it. He braced his arm against the shower wall and stroked himself, starting off slow, a stuttered breath shaking past his lips, water pouring down his shoulders and tickling over his back.

Biting down on a moan, he slowly sped up, imagining what it would've looked like if Cas had noticed the way his pants had tented, if he'd unlaced them and pulled out Dean's cock.

He'd look so gorgeous with his too-pink lips stretched wide around the shaft, his hand fisting at the base. Dean's fingers in his hair—was it as soft as it looked?

High and tight, Dean panted, pressing his forehead against the cool wall, and barely keeping back moans he desperately wanted to let out.

Pleasure pulsed through his body with every pass of his fist, muscles tightening, straining toward release. Sliding his thumb over the tip, he pictured Cas licking around the head of his cock, dipping his tongue into the slit.

“Dean?”

Euphoria slammed into him, launching him straight into his orgasm, and he gasped quietly as he spilled over the wall, splatters of it landing on his wrist and the back of his hand before quickly washing away.

_ Fuck, _ he thought, grinning stupidly and shaking his head, he'd been so into it he could've sworn—

“Dean? Are you okay?” Cas asked from just on the other side of the curtain—definitely in the room.

“Shit,” Dean gasped, jerking upright, eyes flying open as his foot slipped on wet porcelain. He caught himself at the last second and pulled back the curtain just enough to stick his head out and glare incredulously at him. “What the hell, Cas? I'm in the shower!”

“I…” Cas wet his lips, cheeks flushing as his gaze flickered between Dean's hair and his exposed shoulder… and oh—wasn't that interesting? “I was coming to tell you that I'm going to fetch supplies. I didn't want you to think I abandoned you if you came out before I was gone. Then you didn't answer, and I got worried you might've had other injuries I hadn't detected.”

His eyes tracked a bead of water Dean felt drip from his temple down the curve of his jaw before it fell from his chin. Cas blinked, then seemed to recover. “Clearly that's not the case,” he added. “You look… fine.”

A half-smile curled up on Dean's lips. “Fine, huh?”

“I… yes. Fine. So, I'll just… I'm going to….” Cas looked at him helplessly, and Dean almost chuckled.

He lifted a brow. “Gonna go?”

“Mhm.” Cas nodded, emphasizing his point, though he made no move to leave.

“You sure you got enough mojo back?” Dean asked.

“Enough for this,” Cas said with a shrug.

Chewing his lip, Dean contemplated how much he was willing to trust Cas. With a gusty sigh, he looked up at the ceiling, briefly wondering how dumb he was being. “Okay. Just… come back, okay? Don't make me track you down.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Cas said dryly. “Enjoy your shower.”

Grinning, Dean ducked back behind the curtain. “Oh, I will,” he replied silkily, like he hadn't already. 

 

*****

 

Dressed in the suspiciously clean clothes he'd found hanging on the back of the door instead of piled on the floor where he'd left them, Dean wandered out into the empty room. Cas must've triggered the sigil for the lights before he left, ’cause glowing blue white orbs we're hovering on either side of the bed near the wall. The cool ambiance of them almost disguised how stark the room was.

It didn't take him long to start pacing in the small space, floorboards creaking beneath his feet. He wasn't worried about Cas, the guy was a sha—a  _ seren. _ He could take care of himself. He could do things Dean couldn't even dream of, probably. The uncomfortable prickle beneath Dean's skin, and the anxiety gathering in his gut were due to something unrelated to Cas's current safety.

He scrubbed his hands through his damp hair, frustration bubbling up in him. Fuck, he was so sick of reacting to everything being thrown at them. Sick of running and waiting for the next attack. They didn't even know  _ why _ Stormridge wanted Cas for fuck's sake.

Right as he was reaching his boiling point the door unlocked, and Cas walked in, one arm loaded with a sword and shield, and the other with a canvas bag nearly overflowing.

Cas moved into the room and laid the bag out on the bed while Dean closed and locked the door behind him.

“Did you…?” Dean started to ask, but Cas cut him off, holding out the sword and shield, blushing and averting his eyes.

“I got these for you because you lost yours. I don't  know much about swords, but the swordsmith said it was the best,” he blurted out, looking embarrassed and adorably flustered.

With a grin Dean took the sword from Cas's outstretched hand and examined it. Turning away from Cas, he gave it a few experimental maneuvers. Well balanced, light. It was similar to his old one; enough that his adjustment to it would be minimal.

“Not bad,” he said at last, facing Cas again. “Did you use magic to get all of this?”

Nodding, Cas chewed on his bottom lip. He looked like a guilty, chastised kid. Dean smiled fondly at him, affection growing in his chest. It couldn't have been the first time Cas had needed to use his magic that way—how else would he have survived all these years? And yet there he was, as conscience-stricken as if it was his first offence.

“After this is over, we'll come back, and I can pay for it,” Dean offered. He rested his hip against the bed and watched surprise play over Cas's face.

“We?”

“Well, yeah. Plannin’ on stickin’ around aren't you? Can't just steal weapons for a guy and bail. There are rules against that,” Dean informed him matter of factly, crossing his arms and leaning back on his heels with a smirk.

Cas licked his lips, setting the shield on the bed and walking closer to the side Dean was standing on, like he was being drawn in by Dean's words. “I suppose I can't. Not if it's against the rules.”

Too close for comfort but not close enough, Cas stopped. He tilted his head up a little, looking into Dean's eyes, his own curious and almost… innocent. Innocent in a way Dean hadn't been in so  _ long. _ Cas had said he'd spent his time between his studies and protecting Dean. That last one especially had to have kept him busy the last several years. What if he'd never…?

Heat lanced through Dean, flaring in his gut. With the way Cas'd been looking at him earlier—hell, with the way he was looking at him  _ now— _ there wasn't a whole of question about whether Cas was interested. And it sparked something primal, possessive in Dean. He might be the first person to get to do this with him.

Stepping closer, closing the distance between them, Dean reached up and cupped Cas's jaw. He smelled fresh and clean with the barest musky undertone, despite not having showered. Had Cas used the same magic on himself as he'd used on Dean's clothes?

He trailed his thumb over Cas's bottom lip, watching his eyes go dark with desire; tension and anticipation between them drawing tight.

“I wanna kiss you,” Dean whispered, entranced by the soft give of Cas's lip beneath his thumb.

“Why?” Cas asked, and Dean chuckled warmly, feeling young and light in a way he hadn't for so many years. Of all the things Cas could've asked, of course he cut right to the quick of it.

Leaning down a little, Dean brushed the side of his nose against Cas's, and listened to the shuddering breath he released. How long had it been since someone had touched Cas kindly, intimately or not?

“Because I want to,” Dean confessed. “But also because you spent years of your life protecting me; shut away from your kind and mine, as a form of penance you didn't even deserve to pay. That's… I'm always the one looking out for someone—Dad before… and then Sammy, and Jo. They were my responsibility. I did what I had to so they'd have a better life. And you did that for me without anyone ever asking you to. Why?”

Cas sucked on his bottom lip, gaze flickering away from Dean's. “I… at first it was what you said. It was penance, but the more time I spent watching you, the more I saw how  _ good  _ you are. Even in your darkest moments, you were always so  _ unflinchingly  _ good. I admired that. And then we grew up, and you were beautiful; fierce in combat, but a loyal friend, a brave, intelligent leader. I just wanted to keep you safe. I  _ needed to.” _

Warmth spread through Dean's chest, his grip tensing slightly on Cas's face, bringing Cas's blue eyes back to meet his. “God, that should be creepy as hell, but I kinda like it.” He flashed a half-smile at Cas. “Guess we're a couple of freaks.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you just kiss me now, and we can talk about this later?”

A grin broke out on Dean's face. “’Kay.”

Wetting his lips, Dean slid his thumb beneath Cas’s mouth, then skimmed his hand up along his jaw as he leaned down, closing his eyes and brushing his bottom lip up over Cas’s, the firm silk of it gliding under his until he reached the seam. Heart pounding in his chest, he did it again.

Cas let out the softest sigh, his mouth parting, and Dean dipped his tongue inside. Cas tasted cool with a hint of something sweet and intoxicating.

“God you taste good,” Dean murmured, licking his lips.

“Spearmint leaves.” Cas pushed up on his toes to catch Dean's mouth again, his hands gripping Dean's biceps. “I—” He didn't bother with the rest of his his sentence, just pressed his lips back to Dean's, hot and eager.

He was every bit as inexperienced as Dean expected him to be, but he learned lightning fast. In no time at all, he was giving as good as he got; biting at Dean's lips and swirling his tongue into Dean's mouth.

Dean was igniting—every inch of his body attuned to Cas, every part of him wanting more. He sucked Cas's bottom lip between his and drew back, releasing it as he went in a slow, slick slide.

As far as first kisses went, it was a hell of one. He watched Cas's eyelashes flutter open, his gaze smouldering. God, he wanted to kiss Cas and never stop.

“Do it again,” Cas demanded, eyes hazy and bright with lust.

He couldn't resist sliding the pad of his thumb over Cas's lip again, feeling it swollen and wet. “Maybe we should take this slow.”

“No.” The petulance in his tone made Dean smile, and then Cas pressed himself closer, the hard length of him pushing against Dean's thigh and any amusement he felt flew right out the window.

He hissed, arousal blazing in his blood, pulsing in a steady beat to his cock. “Cas, you just had your first kiss, I don't wanna—you have  _ no  _ idea the things I wanna do to you.”

Breathing heavily, Cas pushed his hips forward, rubbing against Dean. “If they feel as good as this, I want you to.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groaned. “Have you ever even—?”

Cas's cheeks flushed. “Of course I have, not  _ with _ someone, but I know more than you think. I've seen—” His cheeks darkened further as he cut himself off, eyes widening.

“You've seen…?”

“I…” Cas's eyes closed and he tipped his head down. “I saw you. Outside of the tavern one night with… with a man.”

Dean smirked. “Gonna have to be more specific than that. There've been a lot of taverns.”

Cas glared up at him. “I know.”

“Were you jealous?” He liked that idea so much more than he'd ever admit.

“What?”

Pressing his thumb against the side of Cas's neck, Dean smirked. “When you saw me and the guy, were you jealous?”

“I had no right to be,” Cas replied, guilt creeping into his expression.

Pay dirt. “Not what I asked.”

The answer to his question came begrudgingly. “Yes. Once I realized what was happening I left but… I wished it was me. I imagined it was me.”

“There's definitely something wrong with me,” Dean breathed on a sigh, cheeks burning. “’Cause for sure that shouldn't turn me on, but—” He pushed his hips forward into Cas, letting him feel exactly how hard he was.

“Dean, I want—”

“Yeah, okay.”

They crashed back together in a frantic kiss, Dean pulling Cas tighter with one arm wrapped around his lower back, grinding forward into him. Pressure, and friction, and the sweet give of Cas's mouth all driving him crazy. Cas responded beautifully, little gasps and moans pressing from his mouth into Dean's.

He broke away from Cas's lips and nipped at the dip in his chin, then dragged his lips over the stubble along Cas's jaw, reveling in the damp cling, and the way his lips buzzed after.

Sucking Cas's earlobe into his mouth and tonguing at it, Dean smiled at the ragged moan Cas let out, his body arching. He breathed hot in Cas's ear, licking over the shell, knowing the sound of it would get Cas hotter—and he was right.

“Dean!” His fingers clawed down Dean's back, hips pushing restlessly into Dean's, friction making them both groan.

“Mmm.” Dean slid his hand up the side of Cas's neck, thumbing his damp jawline. “Gonna make you feel so good, Cas. Want me to?”

“Yes, please.”

“Cute.” Dean winked at him. “You got manners when you get all worked up.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at him. “I always have manners.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Why don't you show me those fine manners of yours and help me clean off the bed? I know what you saw was standing up…” Dean flashed him a grin. “But trust me, it's better in a bed.”

Looking reluctant to leave the warmth of Dean's embrace, Cas peeled away with the tiniest pout on his lips. It was a quick job, getting the stuff off the bed and the two of them on it.

He laid Cas out on the mattress and settled down on his side next to him. Curving his upper body over Cas, Dean cupped the side of his neck and kissed him again, his hand slowly trailing down Cas's body, over the worn, body warm linen of his tunic. The muscles beneath his palm tensed minutely the lower he got; Cas was fighting to keep his body still, and it was so damn sexy.

Rubbing his hand firmly over the straining bulge in Cas's pants, Dean kissed him deeper. Cas moaned low, clutching at Dean, fingers digging into his bicep as he rolled up into the pressure of Dean's palm.

Breaking away, he tugged at Cas's shirt. “Off.”

“Yours too,” Cas demanded, reaching for the hem of his own shirt, lifting his torso from the mattress and pulling it off.

Dean followed suit, tossing his shirt to the floor as he got to his knees and moved over between Cas's legs. He was lying with his knees bent, his arms straight by his sides, his face pink, and his blue eyes wanting. There was a sliver of nervousness in his expression as he looked Dean over, his gaze traveling down Dean's chest, his toned stomach, and settling on the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, hands sliding firmly up Cas's thighs until his thumbs settled into the groove of his hips. “Relax. I'm gonna make you feel amazing, I promise. Just… let me.”

Cas bit his lip, a shy smile flickering at the edges of his mouth as his tense body loosened. Straightening up, Dean finally let himself look at Cas—the firm muscles of his chest, dusky nipples already budding in the cool air, a cute freckle above the right one Dean instantly wanted to put his mouth on. Down lower, over his flat stomach and sharp hipbones. Was there any part of Cas he  _ wouldn't  _ want his mouth on?

_ The answer to that was clearly no, _ he thought, mouth watering as he stared down at the impressive way Cas's cock strained at his leather pants, the laces pulled tight.

“You're so beautiful,” Dean breathed, hardly conscious of his words.

Squirming under the attention, Cas flushed right down his chest. “So are you.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at that, Dean caught Cas's hands and pulled them up above his head to rest on the pillows, pressing their bodies close, the naked skin of their chests brushing.

He kissed along Cas's jaw, up to his ear again, delighting in the way Cas arched up against him. “I wanna taste you.” He slid his hand down and palmed Cas's cock through his pants, squeezing gently. A high sound broke in Cas's throat. “Right here. Wanna feel my mouth on you, Cas? My tongue sliding up your cock before I suck you down deep?”

“Yes,” Cas gasped, rolling his hips up against Dean. “Dean, I want—” He moaned, whatever he was saying forgotten.

This was always Dean's favorite part. Taking his partner apart, making them feel so good they'd never forget him. “Mmm. I wanna feel you come in my mouth, wanna feel it land on my tongue, hot and salty and tasting like you.”

Cas's body locked up and Dean quickly pulled his hand away despite the indignant whine Cas made. “Not yet, sweetheart. Let's get these pants off, huh?”

That seemed to thaw some of Cas's ire at his orgasm denied, and Dean got back up on his knees, helping him peel his pants and undergarments off. Once they'd been tossed aside he took his time looking his fill.

Cas's cock was hard, thick and long, every bit what that bulge in his pants had promised. Curved up against his belly, flushed dark, a thick vein ran up the underside. His foreskin was bunched up under the shiny pink head, and Dean wet his lips, mouth flooding with saliva in anticipation. He swallowed harshly and forced his gaze up to meet Cas's.

“Damn, Cas.” Dean sighed, a smirk curving his lips. “There anywhere you  _ aren't _ pretty?”

“I'm not—” Cas snapped his mouth shut, eyes flitting to the side..

“Hey,” Dean murmured, dropping down over top of him and pressing a kiss to Cas's temple. It didn't take a genius to figure out Cas couldn't take a compliment about his body ’cause he wasn't used to getting any. Dean's chest ached a little. “Cas, you're gorgeous. Man, you're so hot that even when I thought the worst of you, I couldn't stop thinking about how good you looked.”

Disbelief warred with curiosity in Cas's eyes. “Really?”

Dean smirked. “Yeah, had myself convinced it had to be some kinda magic the binding didn't dampen.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas frowned. “Why would I waste magic on my looks?”

Dean chuckled, and raised an eyebrow. “Can we talk about how dumb I was when I'm not crawling out of my skin with the need to suck you off?”

Cas’s lips parted, cheeks flushing again. He pulled Dean in for a needy kiss with hands on either side of his face. Dean rutted down against Cas, grunting at the sensation rocketing through him with each smooth drag of skin on skin.

“Dean,” Cas panted, grabbing at his lower back, pressing Dean down tighter as he shoved up into him.

Humming, Dean sucked and nipped his way down Cas’s neck. He tongued a slow stripe over his collarbone on his way to one perfect budded nipple. Sucking it gently into his mouth, Dean flicked his tongue over the tip. Cas gasped and jerked up, fingers finding their way to Dean’s hair. Smiling, Dean bit down gently just as he shifted his hips out of the way and got a hand on Cas’s straining cock, hot, hard, and silky in his palm. He kept his grip a little loose, his movements slow and teasing.

“Dean, mmm… oh,” Cas moaned, pushing up into every stroke. Fuck, he was so damn sexy. Shifting, Dean switched sides, lapping at the freckle he’d been eyeing above Cas’s nipple before he dipped his tongue lower, sliding the flat of it over perky, pebbled flesh. He scraped his teeth over it, eliciting another gasp from Cas, heat surging to his own cock, swelling it tighter in the confines of his pants.

Galncing up at Cas’s flushed face, smug, Dean trailed his mouth down the center of Cas’s chest. Veering to the side, he sucked a dark red mark just above Cas’s right hip bone. God, that looked good. He followed it up with a few more trailed across the sensitive skin of Cas’s lower abdomen as Cas squirmed and shivered beneath him, moaning his name like it was the only thing he remembered. Getting to be the first person to touch Cas like this, to give him this kind of pleasure was going straight to Dean’s head. Something possessive and burning was steadily building in his chest. He nipped just under Cas’s belly button, listening to the desperate hitch in Cas’s breathing.

“Please,” Cas gasped. “Dean, please. I need—”

“Shhh,” Dean soothed, moving back on his haunches a little more. He curved his body down so his hot breath washed over the head of Cas’s cock as he spoke, voice satiny, “I know what you need. This is gonna feel  _ so _ good, sweetheart.”

“Dean—” he breathed as Dean wetly swept his tongue from the base of his cock up to the tip, gently swirling it around the head.

He didn’t tease Cas long, not his first time. He wet his lips and took Cas into his mouth, loving the weight, the salty clean taste of him, and the stretch of his lips around Cas’s cock. He slid down until Cas was pushing into the back of his relaxed throat, his nose brushing wiry curls, then drew back up, sucking and pressing his tongue to the underside of Cas’s cock as he went.

Saliva pooled in his mouth, and Dean let it get messy, speeding up a little, sinking down around Cas again and again, feeling the tension in Cas’s hips growing where he banded his arm over them to keep him still. Humming his satisfaction at Cas’s deep moans, Dean sucked a little harder, took him a little deeper.

The musky scent of Cas, and the limited oxygen he was taking in made everything hazy and hot, his dick was aching, throbbing in his pants, and he reached his free hand down to rub at it. Pleasure arced up his spine and bounced wildly inside him.

God, Cas was so close, Dean felt him swelling in his mouth, getting harder, fatter. Groaning in approval, he urged Cas on wordlessly with flicks of his tongue, the steady slick friction of his lips, and suction.

“Dean.  _ Dean,  _ I—oh.” Cas stilled, his body freezing, fingernails digging into Dean’s shoulders. He trembled, choking out a euphoric moan as he spilled into Dean’s mouth. Bitter-salty spurts landed on Dean’s tongue and he held them there, working Cas through his orgasm with his hand, milking the last drops from him before he finally pulled off and swallowed, eyes locked on the glimmering half-lidded blue of Cas’s.

“Mmm, like that look on you.” Dean’s voice was gritty and rough, and by the way Cas swallowed and his eyes went dark, he loved the way it sounded.

“Your turn,” Cas declared, recovering faster than Dean expected, pulling him up the bed with surprising force and reversing their positions. And holy hell was that hot. Yeah, this wasn’t gonna take long.

Cas expertly unlaced Dean’s pants, and shoved them half-way down his thighs before he gave up getting them off all the way in favor of reaching up to run his fingertips feather soft along the underside of Dean’s cock.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed, forcing his hips still, making himself let Cas explore. Cas’s eyes flew up to his inquisitively. “Feels good.”

Nodding, Cas looked back down at his fingers, entranced. He circled them around the base of Dean’s cock and leaned in, cautiously licking at the tip, slowly glancing up Dean’s body as he did it.

A jolt of arousal so fierce that he almost came right then and there swept through Dean and settled blazing in his gut. The little intrigued sound Cas made only amped up the desire coursing through Dean. Cas’s mouth engulfed him, sinking down and down until he gagged and popped off, looking mildly offended.

Trying to suppress his amusement at the expression Cas was making, Dean ruffled Cas’s dark hair. “Hey, don’t worry about it. That takes practice. Maybe just try using your hand for most of it, and use your mouth and tongue on the head.”

Cas frowned. “You made it look easy.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I had practice. If you wanna learn we can definitely work on it, but right now I’m a stiff breeze away from coming all over that pretty face of yours.”

Glancing down at him, Cas’s eyes widened a bit. “Really?”

“Yeah, Cas. I keep telling you—you’re hot as hell. Getting you off was probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. And I really,  _ really _ wanna come now.” Keeping the desperation that was intensifying in him out of his voice was damn hard.

Cas bit his lip on what could only be called a smug grin. Clearly in better spirits, he leaned down and lapped at the head. Moaning, Dean tightened his fingers in Cas’s hair, just the tiniest fraction, but Cas shivered in a way that showed he enjoyed it.

Encouraged, Cas wrapped his hand around Dean’s shaft and stroked him. Reaching down and closing his hand over Cas's, Dean tightened his grip. He moaned appreciatively when Cas adjusted, following the pace Dean showed him.

“Just like that, sweetheart.” Dean’s gaze flitted between Cas’s shiny red lips, his eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks, eyes closed in concentration, and Cas’s hand rhythmically moving up and down his shaft. Heat was flushing his chest, consolidating in his gut. “Fuck, Cas. Feels so good. Mmm… swirl your tongue around.”

Following direction, Cas did, and Dean’s balls drew up tight. His breaths came faster, his heart thundering, racing. Dragging his teeth over his bottom lip, he sucked in a breath and held it, body tightening. “Cas I’m gonna—you might not wanna—oh  _ fuck!” _

His hips twitched as he came into the soft wet heat of Cas's mouth. Pleasure pounded through him, thrumming with his heartbeat, melting into ecstasy. He was trapped in the endlessly shifting blue of Cas’s eyes, a massive warmth unfurling in his chest for him.

Panting, he collapsed flat onto the bed, the hand in Cas’s hair gently tugging him up until he was laying over him, warm and solid, adding to the pleased glow in Dean’s chest. His eyes drifted closed as he kissed Cas, satisfied and lazy for long moments.

“Was that…” Cas trailed off, and Dean blinked his eyes open, taking in the nervous expression on his face.

Smiling, Dean pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That was awesome. You were awesome.”

He maneuvered them under the blankets and curled up around Cas, settling with his arm under Cas’s neck, and his nose buried in Cas’s hair, breathing him in as he wedged one leg between Cas’s. It felt nice, and realization crashed over Dean—he cared for Cas so much more than he’d ever cared for someone he’d slept with before.

This whole time it’d been growing in his chest against his will, a begrudging  _ like _ that was rapidly burgeoning into so much more. Protectiveness swelled in his chest, ’cause who knew how long this would last. There were people out there after Cas who would relentlessly pursue them for reasons they didn’t even understand. He was so  _ sick _ of reacting—of running. He needed to  _ do  _ something. After the way Dean had been treating him, Cas deserved that much from him. Whatever it took, Dean promised himself he’d make sure Cas was safe.

Cas made a soft sound, nuzzling closer to Dean, breaking him out of his dark thoughts. He’d figure out a plan tomorrow. For now there were a handful of hours to be stolen, and so damn much he wanted to do in them.

“Too bad we don't have any lube,” Dean mumbled wistfully.

“Lube?”

Grinning, Dean slid his hand down Cas's back. “Lubricating potion. It makes things… slippery.” Cas shivered pressing closer to Dean.

“Where do I get some?”

“It's okay, we can do stuff without it, it's just—”

“Dean,” Cas snapped, voice dark and oh so hot. “Where do I get it?”

“There's probably a magic store in town, but I'm sure they're closed by now—” Dean broke off in a groan as Cas clambored out of bed and tugged on his clothing. “You're stubborn, y'know that.”

Cas grinned. “I learned it from the best. I won't be long. And when I get back, you can start demonstrating its uses.”

Dean flopped back onto the bed groaning, arousal flashing hot in his gut. What'd he gotten himself into?


	8. Chapter 8

Morning sunlight on his face woke Dean just a few hours after he’d finally fallen asleep. Groaning, he rubbed roughly at his eyes. Four hours of sleep didn’t quite cut it the same way it used to. Blinking awake, he rolled over to find Cas half-dressed, his shirt still off as he sat on the floor in the same position as yesterday. He was gorgeous with the golden light from the window streaming over this features. His dark brown hair was stuck up, tan bare skin looking so damn soft, his pink lips kissable.

“Come back t’bed,” Dean mumbled, sleep-scratchy.

Cas’s lips quirked up a fraction and he tilted his head toward Dean, one eye opening the tiniest bit. “I’m surprised you’re up already.”

“’M not.”

Chuckling quietly, Cas climbed into bed beside Dean, letting him burrow his face into the crook of his neck and wedge a leg between his. He settled his arm around Dean, body warmer than it should’ve been after he’d been sitting bare-chested in the cold morning air. Sighing, Dean relaxed against him, letting himself ignore reality just a little longer.

He didn’t wanna think about the danger bearing down on them when Cas was wrapped so comfortably around him. It felt good, and didn’t they deserve a little bit longer to bask in this?

Despite his attempts to just lie there lazily and let his mind float, his thoughts kept circling ’round to the fact that they didn’t know what they were up against. He was sick of working this blind. Sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I can feel you thinking,” Cas murmured.

Dean pursed his lips, his brow creasing. “You can read thoughts?”

Laughing, Cas turned his face into Dean’s hair. “No. I can just tell something’s bothering you. The way you tensed up made it obvious.”

With a sigh, Dean peeled himself back and looked at Cas, contemplating how much of his thoughts he should share. “We need a plan. And we need information. It’s possible Sam’s got some new insight; could really use a way to get in touch with him about now.”

“I can try wind whispering with him,” Cas suggested. “I’ll be able to talk to him, though he won’t be able to respond at first, not until I teach him how.” Cas frowned. “That could take a bit of time. I've never taught a human.”

Time was something they were in short supply of, but it couldn’t be helped. “Let’s start with that. Just make sure you explain that I’m okay so he doesn’t do something stupid like come try and find us.”

“Of course.”

It took the better part of the day for Cas to teach Sam how to communicate with him, though Cas assured Dean that was actually impressive progress on Sam’s part. In the meantime, Dean’d alternated between snacking on the food Cas had brought for them last night and plotting his next move against Stormridge. At the very least he needed to know where they were. He didn’t want any chance of the soldiers sneakin’ up on them again.

If they determined their location, Dean had a plan ready to put into motion. One that would minimize the risk to Cas and give them a solid knowledge of what was going on.

He glanced down at where Cas was once again sitting on the floor, legs criss crossed. “Sounds like Sam’s got a whole pile of nothin’.”

“Not nothing,” Cas replied, opening his eyes and standing to stretch. “He said there was another breach at the border that coincides with our pursuit. He said they didn’t even stop to attack Shepherd’s Bend, they sped right through before reinforcements had arrived. Sam’s working on securing the border again with several others.”

The orange glow of the sunset made Cas’s tan skin glow, and Dean couldn’t help but let his gaze roam appreciatively over it. “Yeah, well, we still need more information. We need to know where they are. At least that way we can keep ourselves a step ahead of them.”

Cas considered him for a moment. “There’s a locating spell I might be able to do. But it’ll require a great deal of energy.”

Concerned, Dean swung his legs off the bed and leaned forward, touching his arm. “D’you have enough to do it?”

“Possibly.”

Dean examined his expression closely. “Any consequences if you come up short?”

“It’s possible I’ll temporarily drain my magic,” Cas admitted, shrugging his shoulder.

“Like before?”

Cas shook his head. “No, then I was running on fumes. This time I’d be on empty. I suspect it would be similar to the way I felt when I was bound.”

Frowning, Dean tugged Cas closer. He rose up onto his knees between Dean's legs. “But it’ll come back right?”

“With rest.”

Dean rubbed his hand on Cas’s bicep, deciding. “You should do it then. We’ve got the room for the night, and we need to know.”

Cas nodded. “I’ll prepare it.”

“Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?” Dean asked, sliding his palms along Cas's jaw.

Grimly, Cas glanced up into Dean’s eyes. “Your sword.”

 

*****

 

Hand now carefully bandaged with some supplies Dean had found in the washroom, Cas was passed out in the bed. He was sleeping so deeply that Dean’d checked more than once to ensure he was still breathing. Before he lost consciousness, he’d revealed to Dean that the Stormridge soldiers had taken up camp not far from where they’d left them.

Could they be lying in wait, hoping that they’d be stupid enough to come back for the supplies and horse they’d left behind? Or were they planning their next move?

Fully dressed in his armor, sword and shield now stored in his chestplate, Dean brushed the hair from Cas’s brow and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone,” he promised quietly.

As soon as he stepped out the front door, Baby growled at him from her perch in an old oak tree that towered up beside the inn. He might’ve left Cas unsuspecting back up in the room, but Baby wouldn’t be so easy to convince. Sighing, he walked over to the tree and looked up at her.

“If you wanna talk, come down.”

She sniffed and narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s not like I  _ wanna  _ leave you behind. I just…” Dean looked down at his boots. “Someone’s gotta watch over him while I’m gone. Look, I know you don’t like it when I go off on my own—or when you think I’m being reckless—”

Baby snorted, and Dean rolled his eyes at her.

“But I promise I’ll be safe. He needs you  _ more _ right now, and I think you know that. If anything happens to him, come find me.”

For a long moment, Baby looked like she wouldn’t back down, then she swooped to the ground and rubbed her head against the side of Dean’s thigh. “Thanks, Baby.”

Stealing a horse wasn’t exactly the most ethical thing Dean’d ever done, but he could repay the person later. Luck was on his side, and he got away without arousing suspicion. Riding off into the night, he sent up a grim prayer that his luck would hold.

Well back in the woods from the location Cas had given him, Dean tied the horse to a sturdy tree. From there he crept closer on foot. Eventually, through the darkness he saw the glow of fires, the scent of woodsmoke thick in the forest air.

From a vantage point in the shadows, Dean watched the perimeter guards walk by. He waited two rounds, watching for any sign of movement in the tents. His best bet for capturing a Stormridge soldier was going to be catching those two off guard and incapacitating them before they could alert anyone.

He was in the middle of planning just how he’d lure them away when a bug bit his neck. Clamping down on his lip with his teeth to keep silent, and fighting his instinct to swat it, he reached up slowly, grabbing it’s fuzzy little body and yanking it out. Vision doubling, he shook his head, brows drawing together as he held the bug up to look at it. Except—

“Oh crap.”

Dean’s eyesight went dark, his body numb, consciousness fading as he hit the forest floor.

 

*****

 

Gasping, Dean came to with a splash of icy water in his face, chill droplets clinging to his eyelashes, dripping down his forehead and cheeks, his hair and tunic soaked. There was a pulsing headache hammering away in his skull, and the light from the white orb overhead was too bright, making it even worse.

“Dean Winchester.” The man towering over him had a voice Dean instantly recognized from their last encounter. The soldier who’d tried to strike a deal with him for Cas. Standing before him, tall, lanky, his long face smarmy and egotistical, he didn’t look like much, but the malevolence in his eyes—the cunning—made Dean wary.

“Someone’s been talkin’ about me, huh? All good things, I hope.” Dean shot him a half-smile. One thing he knew about men like that—you never let them see your weak spots.

“Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean,  _ Dean.”  _ The man sneered at him, stepping forward to a tray of instruments Dean forced himself not to grimace at or examine too closely. There were knives and other pointy tools, that much he caught.

He glanced around the large tent they were in to distract himself. Two guards were by the door flap. Cream canvas formed the walls, and dark grass was beneath their feet. Dean’s armor was piled up too far out of reach to be useful. Nothing else was in the tent besides the solid chair Dean was strapped to and the tray of stuff he was tryin’ not to think about.

“I really didn’t think we’d actually catch you sneaking back here. And with that last dart from your friend too. I have to say I’m a little disappointed in you. I thought you’d be a  _ little _ smarter than that.”

Dean grinned, shrugging his shoulder. “Yeah, well, what can I say? I live to surprise people.”

“So brave, aren’t you? Too bad it won’t do you much good. My name is Alistair. I doubt you’ve heard of me since Stormridge didn’t give back prisoners of war the way Laurellia did. We couldn’t, because we don’t take them. But I’ll bet that what you didn’t know was that we didn’t just slaughter your soldiers in battle. We rounded them up, and we interrogated them first. And I…” He chuckled, his eyes hardening as he picked up a knife. “Well I’ve always been the best at this part of the game. I’m practically famous for it, where I'm from.”

Gritting his teeth, Dean glared at him, his heart rate picking up as cold fear spiked in his blood.

“Let’s find out how to make you spill all your little secrets _ ,  _ hmm, Dean?”

He forced himself not to give away the sickening lurch in his stomach, keeping his gaze even. Alistair advanced on him, a sharp, curved, wicked looking knife in his hand, and Dean prepared himself for pain.

The scrape of metal over stubble was loud in his ears as Alistair gently dragged the blade along Dean's jaw. His head twitched away involuntarily. Alistair grabbed onto the top of his hair and fisted it tight, stinging his scalp. Holding himself still, Dean pressed his lips together, nose wrinkling and nostrils flaring.

“You think you’re stubborn. You think you’re strong. I’m going to show you exactly how weak you really are. Every soldier,” Alistair paused, trailing the tip of the blade lightly down Dean’s throat. “Every person I’ve had under my knife has learned that same lesson, Dean. Humans are weak, pitiful creatures when you show them just how badly they can hurt. You probably think you’ve felt pain before, hmm? Not like this.”

Whatever. Dean wasn’t gonna break. He wasn’t looking forward to excruciating pain and death either, but there was no chance in hell he’d give up Cas. Not because he was brave or strong or stubborn—but because it wasn’t an option. The whole kingdom was in danger if Stormridge found a way to use serens to their advantage. Besides, Dean cared about Cas a whole lot more than he was ready to face, and he’d promised himself he’d keep Cas safe. Nothing Alistair did to him could touch that.

The knife hooked into the front of Dean’s shirt, and Alistair sliced down the front. “Let’s begin.”

 

*****

 

Sweat trailed down from Dean’s temple, stinging in the sluggishly bleeding cut on his swollen cheek. He swallowed down against the metallic taste in his mouth. His shoulders were trembling with his effort to stay still. Agony radiated from slashes and burns over his arms and chest. His ribs ached, making each shallow breath a fresh wave of misery.

Blood soaked wetly into the tattered remains of his shirt, his pants splattered with it in dark splotches. His eyes were squeezed shut as Alistair burned another trail along his forearm, a slow winding trail with his blade. The magic he used to heat the metal kept it hot, and Dean grunted, muscles twitching painfully as the acrid scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils.

The blade lifted. It ought to ’ve been a relief, but without the immediate blinding pain, the rest of his injuries rushed back into sharp focus. His stomach turned, his mind recoiling. It felt like hours had gone by like this, but he had no sense of time.

“Tell me where the shadowlight is, and all of this ends.”

Eyes fierce, Dean lifted his head from where he’d rested it on his chest. “Not gonna happen.” His voice was raw, guttural.

“You’re not protecting anything by hiding him from us, Dean.” Alistair smiled, all teeth no warmth. “That’s what you think you’re doing, isn’t it? It’s not about some creature you owe nothing to. That’s not where your loyalty lies. You think we have some nefarious plan to use it against Laurellia.”

Coughing on the taste of blood, Dean didn’t dignify that with an answer.

“I keep telling you this isn’t your fight, but you don’t believe me. It’s true though. We’re not after your precious little kingdom, we have our sights on something bigger. The shadowlands. See, we have myths too.” Alistair set his blade down on the tray.

“Stories about a place with bountiful land, peaceful inhabitants who have powerful magic, sure, but they aren’t organized, they aren’t militarized. I think we both know those aren’t just stories. We’ve been tracking that shadowlight since the war. It would be  _ so _ easy for Stormridge to take the shadowlands. Especially with a shadowlight’s help getting there. Think about it: Stormridge will leave this realm, never set foot in Laurellia again. You’d all have the peace you so badly want and we could finally have a place worth settling in.”

Breaths labored, Dean glared up  at him. “You’re askin’ me to offer up a whole world of innocent people to you scumbags for what? We beat you back every time you come at us. We kick your asses, and we’ll keep doin’ it, ’cause that’s what we  _ do.” _

Alistair grinned darkly. “How many will die when we come again? And we will. Better armed, better prepared. Again and again. How many soldiers… how many Laurellians will you sacrifice for something most people don’t even  _ believe _ in? Your friends? Your  _ brother?” _

Dean struggled against the ropes, fury crashing over him in a burning chill. “You  _ touch _ him and I swear to God I’ll rip your lungs out!”

Knowing he finally hit a nerve, Alistair smirked at him, eyes flashing with satisfaction. “Reconsider your loyalties, Dean. If you thought what I just did to you was awful, it’s nothing to what I’ll do to Sam. He’ll  _ beg _ me for death. Think it over.”

Alistair left Dean trembling and bloody, shaking with rage and agony.

Fuck. Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the prickling feeling of tears he refused to shed. He needed to think. Needed to get out of this. His forearms were bound tightly to the chair, his fingers numb. His legs were secured equally well, and even if he wasn’t bound so tightly, Dean was in no shape to keep himself on his feet if he managed to get there. His arms and torso were weak, legs asleep.

He was screwed. So damn screwed. If he didn’t give up Cas, they’d kill Sam. What was he supposed to do? Deliriously, he shook his head. How was he supposed to choose when he loved them both?

_ Oh, fuck. _

He  _ loved  _ them both. Hanging his head, hopelessness washed through Dean in waves of despair. He’d fallen so easily for Cas—he’d hardly noticed it happening. It had though, and now Dean was screwed. There was only so long he could hold out against this kind of pain, and he couldn’t give Alistair the chance to get information on Cas from him, but if he gave false information it might get Sam killed. He couldn’t save Cas  _ and _ his brother. He couldn’t even guarantee that anything he did here would save  _ one  _ of them.

There was only one option: He  _ had _ to find a goddamn way out of this before Alistair came back. Dean swallowed roughly,  _ or he had to die trying. _

He’d just started struggling to get out of the ropes binding his arms when the two guards standing side by side at the front of the tent started to glow, white light pouring from their mouths and eyes.

“What the—”

They fell to the ground, the empty sockets of their eyes smoking, and revealed Cas standing there. His mouth was twisted down, his eyes dark with fury. Baby snaked around Cas’s legs and instantly went to work gnawing on the rope binding Dean’s legs with her sharp teeth. One snicked through his pants and grazed his skin. “Ow! Easy, Baby.”

Dean wet his lips as Cas stalked over, not uttering a word. He grabbed one of the few clean blades on the table, his eyes flaring bright blue at the sight of Dean’s blood smeared on the steel. He seemed to get control of himself after a moment, and he cut the ropes around Dean’s wrists, releasing him.

As soon as he was free, Dean shot to his feet, staggering under a rush of dizziness, and wrapping one arm around his throbbing ribs. He blinked several times quickly, trying to dispell his swimming vision, and he swallowed on the bile rising up into his throat.

Nope. He held a hand out to warn Cas back and then bent double, throwing up the meagre contents of his stomach into the grass. His stomach seized and rolled, his throat burning as his eyes watered.

Finally, he wiped at his mouth and straightened back up, trembling, to find Cas holding his armor, a sympathetic, concerned look on his face.

“We need to get out of here,” Dean whispered. “And we gotta get a warning to Sam.”

Cas’s face set with determination. “You can’t walk like that.”

“I can make it to my horse.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Well what other choice—No. I…”

“Suck it up, Dean.”

 

*****

 

Cas hadn’t spoken a word to Dean after that. Not before he transformed and flew them out of there. Not when they got back the inn and into the room unnoticed, not when he’d done his best to bandage Dean, magic clearly spent. His expression varied between guilt and fury, and Dean wisely kept his own mouth shut.

Once he’d finished wrapping the last of Dean’s wounds and helped him into a new clean shirt from the bag on the floor, Cas finally snapped. “What in the world were you thinking?”

Dean bristled. “I was thinkin’ I’d find out what they were after you for.”

Cas glowered, crossing his arms. “Did you even have a plan? Did you stop and think for one second that I could’ve been an asset?”

He glared right back. “I was  _ protecting _ you.”

Cas’s arms swung out wildly on either side of him. “I don’t  _ need _ your protection, Dean! And I certainly don’t need you to die trying to provide it!”

“Well someone’s gotta!” Dean replied, pushing to his feet and moving closer to Cas, fists balled up at his sides. “’Cause no one else is steppin’ up to do it, Cas. And you’ve been doing the protecting long enough.”

Cas’s eyes went wide and wet. “You’re an idiot,” he mumbled. “I love an idiot.”

Glaring, Dean ignored that last part for now. “Shut up. I found out what they want.”

“At least lay down before you collapse,” Cas demanded, some heat returning to his tone.

Following Cas’s direction, Dean climbed into bed. Cas took off his own boots, and followed Dean up onto the mattress. They settled with Dean laying on his back beside Cas, who sat with propped up against the wall.

He explained what he’d found out to Cas, trying to ignore the ache and throb of his wounds.

“I can’t let that happen,” Cas said, conviction in his voice.

Dean glanced up at him, and then winced at a jolt of pain in his head.

“You need to rest,” Cas informed him. He went and shut off the light before he crawled back into bed beside Dean.

Normally, Dean would’ve protested and demanded they come up with some sort of plan of action. Tonight his body hurt, his mind was exhausted, and Cas was right—he needed to rest.

Gentle fingers combed through Dean’s hair, soothing and tender. He closed his eyes and relaxed into Cas’s touch the best he could when everything was sore.

“Promise me you won’t do something that stupid again,” Cas whispered, voice thick with guilt in the dark. “Especially not when I can’t heal you.”

An ache deeper than skin, muscle, and bone took root in Dean’s chest at the despair in Cas’s words. “I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, sweetheart,” Dean mumbled, sincerity lacing his words.

Despite the pain in his body, Dean fell into exhausted slumber. The last thing he felt was soft lips pressing carefully to his forehead before that sensation faded away too.


	9. Chapter 9

The sun filtering in through the window and warming his face woke Dean late the next morning. Every throbbing ache from the night before was inexplicably absent, and he was comfortable, head pillowed on Cas's softly rising and falling chest. Fingers slipped through his hair, rubbing his scalp in the gentlest massage, and after the brutality of the night before, Dean clung to softness, melting further against Cas.

They didn't say anything, the only sounds in the room were their breaths and the soft glide of Cas's fingertips through Dean's hair. Eventually, he guided Dean up into a kiss, their lips meeting softly, reverently. He slid his tongue into Cas's mouth, tasting all that warmth. Dean's blood rushed south as he straddled Cas, needing to be closer.

Stroking the flat of his tongue over Cas's, sucking at his mouth, and dragging his teeth over the swell of his bottom lip, he rubbed himself against Cas. There were too many clothes between them—shirts and underwear, and Dean wanted them gone,  _ now. _ He sat back on Cas's lap, settling his weight over the hard press of Cas's cock, blood burning with desire.

Cas's dark pink lips parted, his cheeks flushed, blue eyes scorching as he watched Dean peel away his shirt. His hands slid up Dean's sides, moving around to brush over his pecs, thumbs rubbing firmly over Dean's nipples and forcing a hiss of pleasure from his lips; making him tip his head back and grind down.

Everything felt so damn good; Cas's hands on him, the firm ridge of his cock sliding between Dean's cheeks with every roll of his hips. God, Dean wanted to ride him. Wanted to fuck Cas slow and lazy and deep—feel stretched open and filled up with him.

Leaning down, he grabbed Cas's face and kissed him again, hard, abs flexing to hold himself up. “Let me ride you,” he murmured. Confusion pinched Cas's face, and Dean almost chuckled. “That potion you got us? We can use it to get me all wet inside, stretched open with fingers, and then I want you to fill me up with your cock,” he explained, voice filthy low, hips rocking down for emphasis. “Just like this.”

Cas shuddered, eyes slipping momentarily shut, breath catching. “I—Dean. Yes, that—I want that.”

Smirking, Dean climbed off Cas's lap and yanked his own underwear off. He winked. “Gonna need to get naked, Cas.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but didn't rise to the bait. He lifted his torso off the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. Dean scrambled for the nightstand, and grabbed the bottle of lube, uncorking it. By the time he crawled back into Cas's lap, he was lying there naked and waiting, cock hard, precome smeared over the shiny red head.

He was gorgeous; all tanned skin and hard muscle, and Dean couldn't wait to show him how amazing this was gonna feel. He drizzled lube into his palm, then handed the glass bottle to Cas. “Hold onto that.”

Cas nodded, eyes on Dean's hands, watching him slick up his fingers. Smirking, Dean took his time, made a show out of it until Cas's gaze finally flicked impatiently up to Dean's face. God, he loved being watched like that. Loved being the thing Cas was focused on.

He fingered himself slow, teasing his rim, working himself up to one, then two fingers. His left hand on Cas's hard abdomen propped him up as he rocked back, eyes closing with a mix of embarrassment, pleasure, and the slight burn of the stretch. Little sounds he couldn't help making kept catching in the back of his throat.

Cas slid a hand up Dean's thigh, thumbing the cut of his groin. “Can I… can I help?”

Shivering, Dean snapped his eyes open, arousal pinging wildly in his gut. His voice went husky, “Uh, yeah. Just get your fingers wet and I'll show you.”

Cas poured a liberal amount of lube into his palm, the same way Dean had, only he rushed through slicking his fingers, no teasing which was kind of a shame ’cause Dean goddamn loved those long, thick, elegant fingers. Cas set the bottle back on the nightstand, nearly fumbling it in his slippery grip, and Dean grinned.

“Here.” He took Cas's hand and guided it back between his legs. “Slide one in nice and slow next to—”

Cas's middle finger nudged against Dean's before slowly pushing in alongside them. He let out a little gasp, and Cas stilled. Eyes wide, he looked up at Dean's face. “I'm sorry, did I do it wr—”

“Un-unh.” Dean relaxed his body and smiled, reassuring Cas he was fine. “Just like that. Press it in deep, and twist it a little on the way out. Mmm, God, yeah. Keep on goin’ just like that, Cas.”

Dean's cock throbbed as he spoke, a spark of heat racing up his spine. Who knew teaching Cas how to fuck would be so damn hot? Everything last time had happened so naturally, Cas learning as they went, mostly learning what Dean liked by copying things Dean'd done to him. This was similar, but intensified.

“Dean,” Cas panted, voice strained, and Dean’s body trembled at the rough sound—lust skittering along his sweat drenched skin. “I want… I need…”

“You wanna fuck me now?” Dean asked, darkness and silk. Shuddering, Cas nodded. “Slick up your cock.”

White teeth digging into his swollen bottom lip, Cas wrapped his hand around his dick, sliding it up and down the length, coating it with the lube he’d poured in it earlier. Dean wanted it so bad; a craving so bright he was frantic with it. There was a fevered need spiraling out of control in him, urging him to get as close to Cas as he could.

He withdrew his fingers, and Cas followed his lead, resting his hand on Dean's hip, gripping tight like he needed something to hold onto. Dean reached down, shifting over Cas and lining his cock up, sinking down slow; pressure against his rim and then a wide burning stretch all the way in. The whole time he watched Cas's face—how his blue eyes went wide and hazy before they slipped shut, his face darkening in a flush that spread down his heaving chest. So damn beautiful.

“Fuck,” he breathed once he was seated. “Feels so fucking good, Cas.”

“Yeah,” Cas rasped, voice wrecked, the ache in it, the desperation, hitting every button Dean had. “You feel… you feel…”

Smirking wickedly, Dean braced his hands on Cas's chest and slid forward, letting Cas slip out a little before pushing back down. Cas moaned loudly, whatever he'd been trying to say lost. Gratified, Dean lifted up again, thighs working for it as he slid forward and back in long, slow, thrusts.

Sensation flooded him—Cas big and thick inside of him, dragging over that perfect spot that sent shocks of pleasure spiking in his gut and tingling along his spine. His balls were brushing over Cas's groin, his cock tapping against Cas's belly and abdomen with increasing frequency as he picked up the speed, his body humming.

The grip and pull of Cas's hands on his thighs, his hips, his lower back, and ass as they roamed over his sweat slick skin, all of it was underscored with a cracked open feeling in his chest, this frantic, needy thing that was building up in him just as rapidly as pleasure was pounding through his veins. Moans shattered in his throat, echoing the ragged, sex-rough noises he was drawing from Cas's chest.

Too fast, it was going too fast—it'd be over too soon if he didn't slow them down. Shifting his hands down onto the bed by Cas's head he curled his body over and caught Cas in a kiss, possessive fucks of his tongue while he slowly rolled his hips back onto him, grinding in little circles. Cas was pressing himself up into Dean as much as he could, pelvis tilting to get as deep as possible.

Panting against his mouth, Dean slid his forearm under Cas's neck, his other hand finding its way into Cas's hair and tugging gently. He rested his forehead against Cas’s, biting at his own lip to muffle the urgent groan welling up in his chest.

Slow and steady with increasing force and desperation, Cas fucked up into him, gaining confidence with every guttural sound he wrenched from Dean. His fingers dug into Dean's shoulders, and scraped down his back, over his shoulder blades, leaving little perfect stinging trails in their wake.

Their eyes met. Up close the striated blue of Cas's were glowing faintly with an inner light that emphasized his otherworldliness. Instead of recoiling at it, Dean wanted to drown in them. His teeth bit harder into his lip, so freakin’ close. Cas looked at him like he wanted to see everything—every part of Dean—and it was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

“Dean… I… oh,” Cas panted, back arching, hands clutching at him. “I love you. Dean,  _ I love you.” _

A breath exploded out of him. Cas had said it last night, but it was even better now, and fuck, Dean felt it filling his chest and spreading through his entire body until he was glowing with it, a bead of sweat trickling down from his temple. “Love you,” he gritted out, thrusting back harder, needing more. “Love you, Cas.”

Shakily, Cas let out a groan, fingers tightening their grip on Dean's hips. God, he hoped they were leaving bruises. “Dean, I'm—I can't—”

Reaching down between their bellies, Dean grabbed his own cock, stroking fast and tight. “Yeah. Yeah. Come for me, sweetheart,” he managed, voice breaking with imminent orgasm.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “Dean,  _ Dean,  _ oh.”

His hips pulsed up, grinding hard into Dean, warmth flooding his insides as Cas came in him. The slick slide of Cas's cock through his own wetness ratcheted Dean higher, heat flaring tight in his gut. Body stiffening, he shattered apart. Bliss swept through him in throbbing jerks with every frenzied beat of his heart, his cock spurting sticky release over Cas's abdomen, dripping down his hand and wrist as he wrung the last trembling shocks of it out.

For a moment he just stayed there, gasping for air, letting warmth and pleasure sink into his bones, letting the intimacy of the moment seep into him. Then he kissed Cas hard, slick, and deep—post-orgasmic hot.

It wasn't until tacky come started to feel gross instead of like a dirty thrill, that Dean pulled away with one last butterfly light kiss. “We should shower.”

Cas cracked open one lazy eye, a slight frown curving his lips down. “No.”

Chuckling, Dean gave into the impulse to kiss him again. “We're pretty gross, sweetheart. We're gonna need to bathe.”

A warm sensation tickled along Dean's skin and filled him up. Suddenly he found himself squeaky clean. No sweat, no drying come; probably the cleanest he'd ever been.

“No,” Cas repeated smugly, pulling Dean back down.

“Guess that works too,” he admitted wryly, allowing himself to be maneuvered onto his back.

Cas hummed contendly, curling himself around Dean like a satisfied cat.  _ For a while, _ he decided. They could stay like this for a while longer.

 

*****

 

Dean aimlessly ran his fingers over Cas’s back, feeling his smooth, warm, naked skin. He hated to break the mood, but he had to. “So what are we gonna do? How do we stop them?”

Sighing, Cas rubbed his face against Dean’s chest, the rasp of his stubble raising goosebumps in his wake. “I’ve been studying magic all my life. Magic about the weak spot almost as long.” Cas leaned back and looked up at Dean, blue eyes somber. “There's a spell to close it. Permanently.”

Dean swallowed down his instant panic. “So… you'd be gone forever? I'd never see you again?”

Cas shook his head. “I’ll have to perform it on this side. I'll be sealed off from Desrix just as the rest of this realm will be.”

“Cas…” Dean framed Cas’s cheeks with his hands, thumbs rubbing beneath his determined sapphire eyes. “What about your family? Your brothers and sisters? Your mom? You'll never see them again.”

“No, I won't,” Cas agreed, a note of regret in his voice. “But they'll be safe. My people will be safe. And I'll—” his voice caught. “At least I'll have you, right?”

Nodding, Dean leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Cas's lips. “Of course you will. You got me for good, Cas. Promise.”

Cas chewed his lip, examining Dean's face. “We need to go back… to the place we first met.”

Dean's heart stuttered in his chest. He hadn't been back there in so long. The place where his mother had died. The place where Cas had first bound himself to Dean's fate. If he could, he'd never return. He let out a slow breath, resigning himself. “Okay. D’you warn Sam to watch his back yet?”

“As soon as I was able. He assured me he was being cautious.”

At least Sam was being careful. “Well, get a hold of him again and let him know where we're going. Tell him we might need back up, and to send Benny, Jo, and Charlie if they're recovered. Tell him not to let anyone else know.”

After Cas sent his message to Sam and received a confirmation in return they showered and dressed for the day. Then Cas went and rustled up some breakfast for them. They had a long day of travel ahead of them, and they were both starving.

The journey should've taken a full day of hard riding on horseback with a few rest stops. Cas made it in half of one. Dean thought he might be sick when they landed; but there was solid ground under his feet again. He ignored the amused glance Baby sent his way when he stumbled his first step.

Located a little less than a day's ride from Shepherd's Bend to the right down a forked road Dean had purposely taken a left at when he and Cas had first been on the run, the village of Leeside was a small farm town on the outskirts of a large forest.

Standing in the woods he'd played in as a child, smelling the familiar scent of trees and damp leaves on the ground, nostalgia rose up fiercely in his chest.

“This way,” Cas said, pulling him out of his memories, and leading him further into the woods. “I explained where we’ll be the best that I could to Sam. Hopefully he’ll find it.”

Dean nodded. “He’ll find the clearing at least. We played there a lot.”

They skirted said clearing, and less than a moment later Cas stopped him. He glanced around furtively before he whispered something Dean didn’t catch under his breath, pressing his hand to the empty air in front of them.

Something shimmered or rippled; a motion Dean’s eyes weren’t quite fast enough to pick up. “Cas what’re you—?”

He grabbed hold of Dean’s hand, lacing their fingers together and drawing him forward into the glimmer. “The ingredients I need for the spell are in Desrix.”

Warmth filtered over Dean, like hot water being dumped over his head, and then he was blinking around at unfamiliar surroundings. The trees were enormous—wide and tall with glittering silver leaves. The colors of the flowers littering the ground were vivid, riots of bright pink, purple, and orange scattered in the deep green grass.

It smelled sweet and spicy here, the temperature warmer than it'd been a moment ago. Baby instantly darted off to explore.

“Hey!” Dean called after her. “Don't go far!”

There was a faint tinkling sound on the breeze that vaguely reminded Dean of his chainmail jingling. He glanced around, looking for what was making it, but Cas squeezed his hand and looked up.

Hanging from several of the trees were long hoops of what looked like some sort of weirdly light chainmail swaying with the wind. “What are those?”

A smile pulled at Cas's lips. “Markers. They let people know someone lives in this area. In the wildlands, serens like to demarcate their space. Especially those who prefer privacy.”

“Huh. Who’s space is this?” Dean wondered, glancing around curiously for some sign of the unseen inhabitant before he noticed Cas's silence.

Cas’s cheeks were a flushed pink as he peered at the unkempt wilderness. “Uh. Mine.”

Was he self-conscious? Wanting to reassure him, Dean grinned. “Really? It’s freakin’ awesome.”

Cas offered him a rueful smile. “C'mon, it'll take a while to collect everything.”

As they walked through the forest gathering ingredients, Dean couldn't help but notice that all of the plants they picked could easily be found back in Laurellia. “Hey, was there another reason you wanted to come here?”

Cas examined him, expression confused. “No?”

Dean looked down at the herbs and flowers in his arms. “It's just that we have all this stuff in Laurellia, so I thought maybe you just wanted to see Desrix one more time. Which is fine, by the way, I don't mind—”

Eyes widening, Cas paled and looked away. “It's not the same.”

“What?”

“They  _ look _ the same, but they're not the same,” Cas clarified, still not looking at Dean. “There's something different about the plants here… the magical properties of them. I don't understand the full extent of it… but they’re not the same.”

The sad tone in Cas's voice, the guarded, distant look in his eyes clicked everything into place for Dean. “Is… is that why it didn't…”

Cas nodded, finally lifting his eyes to Dean's, full of so much regret and sorrow that Dean's chest squeezed tight too. “Yes. I didn't know, but I should've  _ realized—” _

Sudden guilt crashed into Dean, flooding his stomach and tangling it up. “Cas you were a  _ kid. _ You did your best, I shouldn't have—”

Cas's hand on his arm pulled Dean up short. “You'd just lost your mother, you were grieving, and you weren't entirely wrong. I was responsible.”

“No.” Dean grabbed Cas's shoulder. “Cas, that's bullshit. Not the stuff about me,” he muttered. “The part about you bein’ responsible. You didn't  _ kill _ my mom: you tried to save her. That—Cas, you didn't have to, but you  _ tried. _ I'm  _ grateful _ for that. At the time it sucked like hell, but only ’cause I didn't understand. I never should've blamed you like that, it wasn't fair… and I'm sorry it screwed up your life.”

“Dean, it didn't screw up my life.”

A sad half-smile lifted the corner of Dean's mouth. “Yeah it did. It really, really did. If it wasn't for me losing it on you, you never would've been chasin’ me all over the front protectin’ me. Stormridge never would've known serens are real, and they sure as hell wouldn't have their sights on your realm. You never shoulda come when you heard me crying.”

Cas blanched, eyes going glossy. He was misunderstanding what Dean was saying—he'd never been good at this part. Careful of the ingredients he was cradling in one arm, Dean cupped Cas's cheek. “If you hadn't you'd be safe, you wouldn't be forced to leave your realm forever. But I'm glad you did, anyway.”

“What?” Cas asked thickly.

Dean let out a breathless laugh. “I'm glad. If you hadn't I never would've met the guy I love.” He shrugged a shoulder, ignoring how corny his own words were. “The guy who in a few short days managed to make me fall for him despite what's gotta be the rockiest start to any relationship ever. The guy I wanna spend the rest of my life with as soon as we get outta this mess.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah, really. But first we gotta get this place sealed up.”

It took a couple more hours, daylight fading into night as they searched, and Cas conjured up a floating orb of pearlescent white light to guide their way.

“That's it,” Cas said, plucking the last tiny pale blue flower they needed. Standing up, his eyes drifted over the forest like he was soaking up every last detail. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Don’t you wanna say goodbye to your family?”

Shaking his head, Cas bit his lip. “I haven’t seen them in so long, and Balthazar’s probably still traveling. The others are so spread out, it’d take days to reach them all. They’ll be happier not knowing, they’ll just think I’m traveling again too.”

Dean’s lips pursed, but it was Cas’s family, so it was his choice. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Cas nodded, eyes flicking away. There was something he wasn’t telling Dean, that much was obvious, but he didn’t have time to pry. The sooner they got this done, the better. Even if there was no way the Stormridge soldiers could know where they were, Dean had an eerie feeling they were running out of time. 


	10. Chapter 10

“Dean?” Sam’s disembodied voice called out.

Looking over at Cas with his eyebrows raised, Dean whistled for Baby, waiting for her to find them before he followed Cas to the weak spot. They passed through it easily. The moment they walked through this time it was like cool water pouring over him, and Dean shivered. Cas smirked at him.

“It’s cold,” he complained.

Cas hummed his response, shrugging his shoulder. “Let’s find your brother.”

Lifting a palm, Cas created another glowing white orb. He whispered something to it, and it zoomed off into the woods.

“What was that?”

“A message for Sam. It’ll guide him to us.”

“Huh. Cool.”

Baby let out a disgruntled sound and clawed at a clump of grass.

“Aww, did Cas steal your thunder?” Dean teased, patting her head.

She huffed at him and bumped one horn into his thigh before she haughtily stalked off.

A few moments later the sound of twigs and leaves crunching under multiple feet announced Sam, Benny, Charlie, and Jo’s arrival.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, rushing forward as soon as he caught sight of them. He was dressed up in soldier’s gear, which was a bizarre thing to see. “You're okay.”

Smiling, Dean hugged his brother one armed, trying not to crush the stuff he was holding. “Yeah, thanks to Cas.”

Sam pulled back, looking warily over at Cas. Jo, Charlie, and Benny cautiously approached.

Dean rolled his eyes. “He's safe guys. And on our side.”

“But what about—” Sam began to protest.

“There's a lot I didn't know,” Dean quickly interrupted. “A lot we need to talk about, but first Cas has gotta do this spell.”

“What spell?” Jo asked, arms crossed.

“It's gonna close the door to Desrix.” At the look of confusion on their faces, Dean added, “The shadowlands. It's what Stormridge is after. They want Cas so they can invade.”

“So he's not working with them?” Benny asked, eyeing Cas with his arms crossed too.

“No,” Dean admitted, guilt coloring his voice as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I… uh, jumped the gun on that one.”

“Sounds like something you'd do,” Charlie chimed in. She smiled at Cas and offered her hand. “Hi, I'm Charlie. That's Benny, Jo, and Sam.”

Cas looked a little thrown at her friendliness as he reached out to shake her hand. “Castiel.”

Dean smiled at Cas, offering a bit of reassurance that he was doing fine. “Okay, Cas. Where are we setting you up?”

Cas waved at the patch of grass in front of him. “Right here is fine. Just set it all down.”

Careful not to lose anything, Dean bent on one knee and dumped his armload. Cas knelt in front of it, and started picking through things.

“This gonna take long?” Benny asked, shifting his weight.

Frowning a little, Cas looked up at them. “Once I start it shouldn’t take too long. It’ll take me few minutes to organize all this and cast the spell, however.”

“’Kay, you start and we’ll—”

A high pitched panicked chirp echoed in the woods, and Dean’s heart leapt into his throat.  _ Baby!  _ Seconds later she crashed through the trees into view, spinning as she wove between branches. Her eyes locked on Dean, she let out two more chirps as she doubled around him and landed beside his left foot, facing the direction she’d just come from, a low growl starting up in her throat.

Slapping his hand to his chestplate Dean called his sword and shield out. “She’s warning us someone’s here! Two guesses who’d spook her that bad.”

Blue lights flickered in the corners of his vision as Jo and Charlie to his left, and Benny and Sam to his right, called their own swords and shields. Dean glanced at them, tension rising in his shoulders. How the hell had Stormridge figured out where they were?

Thank fuck he'd trained Sam to fight with a sword and shield. Thank fuck he was a natural at it.

“Cas get started. The rest of you, keep him  _ safe.  _ We stay between them and him no matter what. A lot of innocent lives are on the line, and we’re gonna save ‘em.”

“Got it!” Charlie shouted.

“Hell yeah we are,” Jo confirmed, squaring her shoulders.

Moving further forward, they formed a circle around Cas.

It started without fanfare. Stormridge soldiers came at them in a rush. Dean focused on the fight in front of him. Two soldiers advanced. He cut one down, and the other tried to get past him. Dean caught him with a slash to the neck.

He couldn’t see what Cas was doing behind him, but he’d started up a low chant, his voice echoing with power. Another soldier lunged at Dean, his momentary distraction costing him. Ducking back, he sucked in a sharp breath at the hot slice of the blade’s edge along his cheek. It wasn’t deep, but it was a close call.

He shoved his shield into the soldier’s chest and knocked him back. Slicing low, Dean cut across the soldier’s thigh. Blood spurted and Dean kicked him away, delivering a blow to his chest, making sure he was dead. The clang of metal on metal, shouts, and groans of pain rang out all around him. Cas’s voice got louder, still steady amidst the chaos. Somewhere Baby was growling, the snap of her jaw punctuating the low rasp.

Two more soldiers advanced on him, their numbers thinning, their desperation rising. He struggled to keep them both back, muscles tiring. There was no time to worry about anything else. He lashed out with his boot at one soldier’s knee, knocking him to the ground. Dean smashed his shield hard into the soldier’s face. He crumpled like a lead weight.

Rounding on the other soldier, who tried to get past him to Cas, Dean tossed his shield aside. He grabbed the back of the guy’s chainmail shirt, yanking him backward. Using all his strength, Dean slammed the soldier into the ground on his back and drove his sword down through his chest before he could react.

Panting hard, he stood, eyes locking on Alistair, widening with fear, then narrowing in determination. “You want him?” Dean shouted. “You’re gonna have to go through me!”

Alistair grinned. “Don’t think I won’t,  _ boy.” _

The fight was vicious—Alistair was skilled. A fist connected with Dean’s injured cheek, bursting fresh pain across his face. He recovered just in time to deflect a blow from Alistair’s sword. His muscles were protesting, thighs and arms burning with effort. He fought hard, but he couldn’t gain an advantage. A glancing blow to his ribs left them throbbing.

Panic clogged his throat, and he made sloppy, desperate gambles. He saw his mistake the second he made it. The opening he left after his attack failed was too big. He didn’t have time to recover. Alistair had him.

Blinding light flashed behind Dean, momentarily stunning Alistair as he winced, his eyes slamming shut. Taking full advantage, Dean flipped his sword and drove it straight up on an angle into Alistair’s throat. He plunged it deep as the flash faded to utter darkness.

Sam instantly shouted an incantation, a blue blaze of light bursting into existence above them.

The sickening wet sound Alistair made as his eyes rolled back was satisfying. He gurgled on his own blood as Dean withdrew his sword, watching Alistair slump into the dirt, red leaking from his mouth and pouring from his neck. Life slowly faded from his eyes and Dean finally tore his gaze away to take in the aftermath around him.

The Stormridge soldiers were down, the last one falling under Jo’s blade. She was a little banged up, but she looked sturdy. Benny was checking out a gash on Charlie’s arm. Sam was looking at him with grim determination, blood smeared across his forehead. Dean breathed a sigh of relief that froze in his lungs when he glanced down at Cas.

Shaking and pale, he was lying on his side in the dirt, eyes shut and arms wrapped listlessly around his middle. “Cas? What’s wrong?” Dean stumbled forward, sword dropping from his slackened grip. He fell to his knees beside him, hands flitting up to brush sweaty dark hair from his forehead. “Cas, c’mon, talk to me, sweetheart.”

Heart pulsing loudly in his chest, his breaths went ragged. He didn’t understand. None of the soldiers had gotten anywhere near Cas. Dean checked him over, hands sweeping over his face and neck, down his limbs. No sign of injury. “Cas.  _ Cas.” _

Cas was breathing at least, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Dean tried to tell himself he’d be okay. It  _ had _ to mean he was okay. Baby nudged her forehead to Cas’s temple.

Sam knelt on Cas’s other side. “Dean, what happened?”

“I don’t…. He was doing the spell, and there was that light. He said he’d be trapped here but he didn’t say anything about—” The look on Cas’s face. The thing he was keeping from Dean. The real reason he didn’t wanna say goodbye to his family. What if he knew doing the spell would hurt him somehow?

“Wake up, you asshole,” Dean muttered, hands on Cas’s face, his thumbs stroking under his eyes in a gesture so familiar that his heart squeezed agonizingly. “I need you. I  _ love _ you. Cas, c'mon. Please.”

He held his breath, childishly hoping like in the fairytales his mother had told him Cas’s eyes would flutter open. They didn’t. A tear slipped down Dean’s cheek. 


	11. Chapter 11

Something was tickling the side of Dean’s face, brushing back through his hair. Fingers smoothing over his scalp.  _ Cas. _ Dean blinked away sleep and stared over into bright blue eyes. There was something different about them, but his thoughts were sluggish.

“Cas?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyelids one handed. On the pillow between them, he was still holding onto Cas’s hand, the way he’d fallen asleep when they’d gotten to an inn. Sam had gotten them all rooms, and he’d talked about getting a healer to check on Cas, but Dean had nixed that idea: there wasn’t anyone qualified to care for a seren, and who knew what kind of damage it could do to have someone poking around him when they didn’t know what they were doing. He’d been holding out hope that Cas just needed rest again. Hope that now seemed founded. “You okay?”

Cas gave him a sad smile. “I will be.”

“What happened last night?” Dean peered intently at him. “You passed out.”

Biting at his bottom lip, Cas’s shoulders tensed, and then he relaxed his body on a sigh. “Cutting myself off from Desrix… it cut off my magic too. I… I’m…” Cas’s eyes went glassy.

“Hey.” Dean cradled his face and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before resting their foreheads together, eyes closed, his chest aching for Cas’s loss. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. Or try to talk me out of doing it,” Cas quietly explained. “I didn't know I'd lose consciousness.”

“Cas…”

“It’s okay.” Cas took a shaky breath, his eyes drifting shut. “I’m just… I’m basically human now. No more shifting or magic. I wasn’t sure that’s what would happen, but I guessed it was a possibility. It hurt more than I thought it would—like the magic was ripped from my chest when I finished the incantation.”

“I wish I could fix this for you,” Dean mumbled, thumbs rubbing over Cas’s cheeks.

“Me too,” Cas whispered. He shifted back and examined Dean’s face, frowning at the stitches along his cheek. “I wish I could fix that for you.”

Dean smirked. “I’m fine. I like it. It’ll make me look badass.”

Cas smiled softly at Dean, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t need a scar for that. Tell me what happened after I lost consciousness.”

“Well, once Sam made me get it together we brought you back here. Then me, Jo, Charlie, and Benny had a chat while Sam patched us up.” Dean scowled. “Think we know how the Stormridge soldiers figured out where we were. And how Kevin got slipped a note at the guard tower.”

Cas's brow furrowed. “How?”

“The only person who let someone know where they were going was Benny. He said his girlfriend, Andrea, was worried about him takin’ off. Gave him a sob story about how she couldn't handle it after all the worrying about him during the war. He's pretty broken up about it. He really loves her, but even he had to admit she had access to the tower, and she's the only one who had our location. Plus she's pretty skilled at magic; she'd know a way to keep in contact with Stormridge.”

Cas pursed his lips, brows drawing together in confusion. “Why would she do that?”

Inclining his head a little, Dean squeezed Cas's hand. “Who knows? Could be they threatened her, or offered her something. We won't know until she's interrogated. Sam sent word to Garth, he'll get the information to the right people.”

For a little while Cas was quiet, absorbing the information or organizing his thoughts. “What happens now? For you? And me? Technically you took off with a prisoner, and told them you were under my thrall.”

Dean smirked. “That's true. But the good news is the only people who saw you were Sam, Jo, Charlie, Benny, and Garth. None of them will say you were the shadowlight I captured. Oh, and Kevin, but he's likely already headed to the capital for trial.” Dean sighed, he couldn't help feeling just a little bad for Kevin even if he should've thought his actions through. “The story we decided on was that the shadowlight used me to escape the Stormridge soldiers. After contacting Sam and the others, the shadowlight escaped while we fought off the soldiers, sealing the door behind him.”

Frowning, Cas stared into Dean's eyes. “But won't it look suspicious if I return with you?”

“Yeah.” Dean smoothed a thumb over Cas's neck when his expression went tight. “I got a plan for that too.” He gave Cas a reassuring smile and leaned in to kiss him. “Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not about to lose you now.”

 

*****

 

The sky was cloudy and grey when they met the others outside the inn. Charlie had managed to secure two additional horses for them, and the mood was forlorn. She, Benny, and Jo left first with Dean promising to catch up shortly. Sam and Baby wandered off a little bit to give Dean and Cas some space.

“It won't be for long,” Dean promised him. “A few days tops. If I could take you to Bobby and Ellen's myself without raising suspicion, you know I would. I gotta be back there with them for any of this to be believable.”

“Won't it look odd that Sam's not with you?”

“Sam's not a soldier. No one's really gonna bat an eye over the fact he needed some extra time to recuperate before heading home.”

Nodding, Cas glanced over to where Sam was waiting. “A few days.”

“Then Bobby and Ellen'll bring you down to visit. A cousin on Jo's dad's side. We'll hit it off, obviously.” Dean smirked at him, and squeezed his bicep. “Love at first sight.”

“Impulsivity. That does sound like you,” Cas teased.

Chuckling, Dean drew him closer. “It does, huh?”

Cas glanced down at Dean's mouth, then back up, eyes darkening. “Mhmm.”

Leaning in and pressing their mouths together, Dean kissed him slow and deep. He gently brushed his lips over Cas's once more before he pulled away completely, trying to make him feel how loved he was, how much he'd miss him. Then he touched his forehead to Cas's, eyes still shut as he ran his fingers through Cas's wild hair. “It does.”

 

*****

 

The smell of frying eggs greeted Dean as he stretched awake. Six months since Bobby and Ellen had first brought Cas back to him, six months of waking up to him in the morning, of going to bed with him at night. Six months of helping him adjust to life without magic.

Smirking to himself and scratching at an itchy patch of dried come on his belly he must've missed when he'd lazily wiped down last night before they'd fallen asleep, he thought,  _ at least without  _ that  _ kind of magic. _

Because being with Cas every day, showing him things he'd never experienced before—both in and out of the bedroom—that was magic all on its own. He knew Cas well enough by now that he wouldn't call him perfect; neither of them were, but they were perfect together. The life they were building was. And every moment Dean got to soak it up, he would.

The fallout from Dean's 'little stunt with the shadowlight’ had thankfully been minimal at best, and Dean had walked away from the meeting with his superiors feeling pretty relieved. Everyone had been ready to move on, and though tensions had risen between Laurellia and Stormridge in the time directly after the incident, things had fallen back into the same peace as before.

He hadn't known back before this whole misadventure started that something was missing from his life. He hadn't understood how empty his evenings, nights, and mornings were. Now that he had Cas to come home to—he couldn't imagine things any other way.

For the first time in way too long, Dean liked his life exactly the way it was. He liked living near his brother, he liked the guards he worked with. And most of all he loved Cas with a fierceness that blew anything he'd ever felt before clear out of the water. He was  _ happy. _

“Dean,” Cas called up the stairs, voice morning-raspy. “If you don't hurry up you'll be late.”

Heaving a sigh, Dean climbed out of bed. “Comin’, just gotta wash up!”

He rushed through cleaning and dressing himself in his armor, trying not to smirk too smugly when he noticed in his reflection the hickey Cas had left purpling his neck just below his ear. Turned out Cas was even more possessive than Dean was. He liked to leave his mark where people could see, and honestly… Dean liked it too. Even if Jo teased him about it mercilessly.

Downstairs he found Cas waiting for him at the table. As he approached, Cas tilted his face up expectantly, and Dean indulged him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mornin'. Where's Baby?”

“Already out.” Cas nodded at the place he'd set for Dean—a plate piled high with over-easy eggs, fried potatoes, and two pieces of buttered bread. “Eat. We both need to get going.”

Since they'd settled into their life together in Shepherd's Bend, Cas had been working at Sam's store. He'd been teaching Sam the spells he knew, the two of them experimenting with what potions and incantations worked in Laurellia. Cas could only instruct Sam, since he couldn't use magic anymore. At first Dean had worried it'd be too painful for Cas, but it gave him something to do while Dean was working that made him feel useful. Plus Sam had said business was doing better than ever since Cas had started helping out. Win-win.

They ate quietly, feet bumping beneath the table, making each other smile. Dean mopped up the runny yolks Cas had made just the way he liked with a piece of bread. Eggs were one of the first things Cas had learned to cook, and he was still overly fond of them. Not that Dean was complaining.

Once they'd finished, Dean cleared away the plates and utensils, dropping them into the sink to deal with later. He pulled on his gloves and met Cas by the door, head tilting inquisitively when Cas's lips twitched with a suppressed smile.

“You have a little….” Cas reached up, his fingertips brushing against the corner of Dean's lips.

A shiver of unexpected warmth tingled where Cas was touching, and they looked at each other, wide-eyed. “Was that—?”

“I—” Cas swallowed hard, blinking a few times in rapid succession before he closed his eyes, brow furrowing in concentration. Another pulse of warmth tickled at Dean's cheek. “It's…” His eyes flew open, disbelief and joy flitting through them. “I think it's coming back.”

“Shit, Cas.” Dean grinned at him, grabbing his face and tugging him into an ecstatic kiss. Then they were both laughing. The world and everything else waiting for them outside could wait.

Right now—they needed to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was my first foray into fantasy for you? I had so much fun crafting this world, and I'm pretty sure I'm hooked on the genre. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
> 
> Please be sure to send lots of love to [@thedogsled](http://thedogsled.tumblr.com) for the incredible artwork too, it's well deserved. <3


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